


Nothing But Good Intentions

by orphan_account



Series: ERIC CARTMAN MUST DIE [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, High School, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, Kydi, Kyman - Freeform, M/M, Partying, Romance, Weapons, dark themes, kynny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-10-19 09:11:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After a suspiciously uneventful break-up, Kyle Broflovski suspects Eric Cartman is up to no good, but it couldn't have been much worse than he'd expected. With his bright future immensely darkened by scandal and his chances to attend the school of his dreams crushed, no thanks to his problematic ex-boyfriend, he couldn't be more distressed and furious.And then, there comes a chance. There's the beautiful and mysteriously familiar new girl in town, with a penchant for vengeance. There's the sweet and sensitive girl who got away, with a broken heart that still needs mending. And then there comes the big opportunity for the three of them to get even and finally get the revenge they've so badly desired.This time, he's losing. This time, it's over once and for all. This time, they're putting an end to the pain he's caused them. Eric Cartman must metaphoricallydie— and the three will risk it all to make that happen.





	1. TWO MONTHS

**Author's Note:**

> this took me forever to actually publish so i'm kinda stoked rn

**TWO MONTHS PRIOR.**

There comes a time in everyone’s life, marked by a defined turning point. Kyle Broflovski had already assumably reached that turning point long before the summer leading into senior year.

The smell of fresh summer air had tempted him into a long walk, and there hadn’t been any point in fighting it as his sneakers crunched across the suburban pavement. It could’ve been any other day; any other walk, or jog; he frequently had the urge to get out of his room and free himself of the anxiety that manifested after days upon days of being cooped up in the house. He was stressing to no end about university applications, varsity basketball and AP classes. So this wasn’t an extraordinary event.

But _ she _ was anything but ordinary.

In a town as small as this one, you’d instantly recognize any face as either old or new. This one was unfamiliar, yet vaguely recognizable. 

Maybe he’d seen her once in a dream.

A girl like that justified a wandering eye. And in the wake of an ordinary walk on an ordinary summer night, nearing the end of a seemingly ordinary summer, Kyle couldn’t help but stare. A girl like that; there was a hint of familiarity, but her aura was vague as her expression.

He must have known her. _ Must _ have.

But the moving truck outside their house said otherwise. And girls from small-town Colorado didn’t dress like that; didn’t move like that. Didn’t wear little black dresses as casual summer attire like that, no, and there was a grace about the way she moved that he could see even from afar. The way she pushed the hair out of her face, her lithe stature and the tilt of her head as she watched a few men hustle up the large front steps and the turn of her shoulders, as she stared back at the sunrise.

There was a woman with her; smaller in height, but with the same slim frame. A twinkling smile, shoulder-skimming black hair and a big brown moving box in her arms; tea set balanced on top. A taller man with thinning blond hair gently scooped the box out of the woman’s hands and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek; resulting in comforting chuckles from the two. The girl looked on with a faint expression of amusement that faded back into disinterest a moment later. She couldn’t tell, just a few houses away, his eyes had wandered in her direction and he was thankful for that as an observer: he didn’t want to be seen.

Before the woman slipped back into the house with her presumed husband, she returned to the girl, attempting to take her hand and lead her inside. But she shook her head and returned to staring at the concrete; the woman’s smile slowly fading. She dropped mystery girl’s hand and trailed up the walkway, leaving her in solitude, leaning back up against the car. Rejected affection.

And again, there was that familiarity to this girl, that he just couldn’t place. She was engulfed by shadows, but when she turned her head and he could catch a better glimpse of her, there was _ still _ an uncanny familiarity to her eyes. Not something he could place, but something he felt as though he had seen before.

Hazel eyes that turned to honey in the faint reflection of the fading sun.

_ “Why don’t you live down here?” _

From his position all the way across the street and a few houses down, he could feel a tug on his wrist and was sucked back to an immediate reality.

And now, he was present.

_ “Why doesn’t your family live down here?” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Kyle,” _ the voice spoke slowly. “I asked why your family doesn’t have a house in this neighborhood. God, what’s with you?”

He blinked and returned focus to the person by his side. “Why would we?”

“‘Cause you’re rich?”

“My family is not rich.”

“Yeah you are, ‘the fuck are you talking about?” he snorted. “You went to New York for Hanukkah last year and your dad’s a lawyer. Why don’t your parents have a house in this neighborhood?”

He surveyed the surroundings that had previously gone ignored in his state of distraction and very intentionally didn’t look back in the same direction he was tempted to. Large suburban houses on the edge of town, pools in every backyard and presumably expensive cars parked in each garage. Not an _ unreasonable _ question; the Broflovskis were very comfortable financially but remained only a few doors down from his friends. And Kyle liked it that way.

“Oh,” he murmured, shielding his eyes from the setting sun. “Uh, I don’t know. It’s a newer neighborhood, I guess. Didn’t exist when we moved to Colorado.”

“So you admit you’re rich?”

“No,” he glared. “Upper middle class at _ most.” _

“Well, if you’re not rich that’s kind of a dealbreaker for me,” he grinned, linking his arm around Kyle’s. “I’m looking to settle rich.”

“Oh really now?”

“What, you thought I genuinely loved you or something?” He teased.

“I guess I shouldn't have expected that much from you, to begin with, anyway.”

“The lower the expectations, the higher the results.”

“You’re a smartass, you know that?”

“Yes,” he nudged Kyle as they continued down the street together. “Watch it, this smartass is gonna cheat you out of your family fortune someday."

Kyle rolled his eyes but locked their hands together. And in the rare heat and romantic atmosphere of a mid-June sunset, everything almost felt as though it should have an outcome with some _ semblance _ of regularity; bickering with a tinge of affection was the norm in the privacy of their lone evening walks, but familiarity was doomed to come to a screeching halt any time it became too comfortable.

Eric Cartman at his side, their slightly sweaty fingers intertwined. He risked a peek downward, into the eyes of the one he loved. The one who’d have his hands tangled through Kyle’s hair in about half an hour when they made it back the secret sanctuary either’s bedroom had been transformed into, since the beginning of whatever _ this _ was, and the one Kyle broke his own boundaries for. For Cartman.

“You’re a lousy gold-digger.”

“And I’m a 10 dating a 5. But we both have sacrifices to make here, Kyle.”

He rolled his eyes and they continued down along the street. And this had become the norm. This part of his life; it was the current norm, this was regular and familiar and that was okay.

And Kyle did look back one last time, wondering if he’d see that girl again, and at last, she’d become recognizable.

But he didn’t. 

She was gone.

* * *

**TWO MONTHS LATER.**

Kyle Broflovski wasn’t great at confrontation.

There were a lot of things he was good at that _ heavily _ involved confrontation, so you’d think he’d be a _ professional _ as a star debater; generally argumentative and occasionally aggressive person. Easily irritable, if anything. He could participate in debate club and tournaments and shoulder-check any opponent that dared cross his path when hockey season came around, but matters of the heart were something else.

For that reason, his inbox remained cluttered. He could see his phone light up in the corner of his eye and squinted his lids shut; blocking it all out.

_ Maybe if I pretend it’s not happening, it won’t happen. _

It was only wishful thinking. Besides, it wasn't as though he didn’t want the last year of his life to have been a lie or a dream; delusion, figment of his imagination, or to have never happened at all. That was the most difficult part of it all. It was hard to let go of something and simultaneously recognize that it had to happen and that he didn’t regret that it _ had _ happened. But Kyle had no problem admitting to himself that if it _ hadn’t _ happened, he wouldn’t be in the very situation he was in that moment and he wouldn’t have to deal with all those unanswered text messages.

There were phone calls too, but those were less easy to avoid without being conspicuous. He’d have to silence his phone and then wait for the call to end as to not obviously emotionally neglect the person at the other end, though it had been almost a week so it was a little late for that.

Like rules, the “norm” was made to be broken.

If Kyle were, to be honest with himself, the only reason he was planning to go through with this plan was because school was starting right back up again soon. And this couldn’t continue into another school year. It was the right choice, whether his gut liked it or not. His gut couldn’t even tell if it was the right decision or not and his mind was too busy overprocessing to be trusted.

The initials carved into his bedpost haunted him. _ KB + EC. _ Why’d he let Cartman _ vandalize _ his furniture again?

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. A nervous habit. It was 7:00 p.m. and his family had gone out for dinner in the city and now he was regretting not joining them even if he initially hadn’t been in the mood for Thai food. He could have just starved. Or he could have ordered green curry and sucked it up; Thai food was good. He was just too anxious to be hungry.

Three loud knocks. His phone chimed. He heard an all-too-familiar voice call out his name from downstairs and beyond the front door, and he realized this was it. He was finally home from his aunt’s in Nebraska. This was as long as he could go without any attention from him and this was as long as he could possibly avoid him too.

So he rose to his feet and ran to the bathroom to splash his face with cool water, then contemplatively stare into his reflection for a good ten seconds before confronting the big fat problem waiting for him outside Casa Broflovski. Hair was still untameable, still auburn, still hung in his eyes ever so inconveniently. He still looked exhausted. He still _ was _ exhausted; not a single hour of sleep that night. It was whatever. It was becoming routine. He made his way downstairs.

_ “KYLE!” _

He pulled the door open. _ “What?” _

“Jesus Christ, I’ve been texting you for days,” he rolled his eyes, slipping in through the front door. “Why was it locked?”

“What’re you doing here?” Kyle sighed. “Didn’t you just get home?”

“Yeah, three days in buttfucking Nebraska, and not a word from my fucking boyfriend,” he groaned. “I had to spend the whole weekend playing the Wii. Fucking Wii, Kyle. Yeah, the Wii. You feel bad for neglecting me now, huh?”

“You love Wii.”

“Not Wii, babe. Not anymore. Not since elementary school,” he sighed. He’d been carrying some sort of wrapped package, that he dropped off beside the shoe rack by the door and Kyle was hit with a pang of guilt. “They didn’t even have any video games. Just Wii Fit. Apparently, my uncle is trying to lose a few pounds. I dunno why that means _ I _ have to suffer too, but I hate those guys.”

“Wii Fit is still a video game, Cartman,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the box by the door. “What is that?”

“What do you think, dumbass?” Cartman scoffed. He kicked off his slides and padded over to Kyle. “Anniversary gift.”

“It’s been a whole year, has it?” he muttered.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he grinned, slipping his fingers through Kyle’s. “Seriously, you ignored me all week and I still got you an anniversary present. I’m a really great boyfriend.”

“Cartman, you _ really _ didn’t have to,” he mumbled. “I don’t need any gifts.”

“Yeah, duh, I got you a gift because I wanted to,” he tugged at the drawstrings of Kyle’s hoodie. The worn-out _ South Park Cows _ logo was a reminder he’d need a new one this fall, so he could respectfully represent the basketball team. “I’m always thinking of you, babe.”

“Yeah, but we got each other gifts just awhile ago,” he hesitated.

“Your birthday was end of May and mine’s early July; that’s not just _ awhile _ ago,” he sneered. “Oh, wait, I get it.”

“What?”

“You didn’t get me anything.”

“No, _ what? _ I mean,” he laughed nervously. “I’m really sorry, I’ve just been busy this week. I didn’t have any time to run out and get anything.”

“Is that why you fucking _ ghosted _ me all weekend?”

He sighed. _ “I’m sorry.” _

“Don’t say it in words,” he grinned coyly. “I’m over talking.”

Kyle felt his hands instinctively travel to one of the loops of Cartman’s jeans. He cursed himself; Cartman made everything so much _ harder _ to do and this time he wasn’t even doing it on purpose. He just naturally had a knack for it. “Come on, maybe we should just sit down and talk…”

“I was gone for like, a year, and I don’t even get a hello-_ kiss? _ What the fuck is _ that? _ You become celibate while I was away?”

Kyle glared. “Don’t test me.”

_ “Ky-le…” _ he rolled his eyes, softly tugging at his hoodie. “Stop being a pussy and kiss me already.”

And Kyle glared but obliged; leaning downward to make contact. He had a good two or three inches on Cartman that Cartman had originally resented him for, but later on, found attractive. He was average height; Kyle was just sort of tall. He played basketball for a reason and he was thankful for the growth spurt.

Cartman always wanted to make more out of kisses; he and Kyle were a makeout couple, meaning makeout sessions were their most intimate moments. Usually, Kyle would be happy to give him what he wanted (if not always at least a _ little _ resentful because of the shit-eating grin that proceeded any “tender” moments between the two), but tonight he had to cut it short. His pinched his eyes closed even tighter and pushed Cartman away.

Cartman reacted the way Cartman always reacted.

“Hey,” he glared. “What the _ fuck _ gives?”

“We need to talk.”

“Damn right we need to talk; you were ignoring me and now you don’t even wanna kiss?” he snapped. “What the hell’d I do _ this _ time?”

“Nothing, seriously,” Kyle sighed. “It’s a lot deeper than just...than just, something you’ve done, okay?”

“But I haven’t even done anything!”

“I know, okay?! It’s not about _ you, _ it’s about _ me.” _

“What’re you saying?”

“I think we should break-up.”

The room went silent. So silent, Kyle could hear ringing in his ears and was almost shocked by the words his own mouth had produced. They’d been dating for a year; they were in love; they had surprisingly enough had no problems, why would he _ want _ to break-up? Who in the right mind would break-up with someone they had such a powerful connection to? It didn’t make any sense.

Cartman blinked, then narrowing his eyes. “You’re _ dumping _ me?”

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, okay?” he sighed. “I’m already struggling as is.”

“You’re _ breaking-up _ with me?”

“Cartman, _ please.” _

“But I...but Kyle, we—”

“—I’m sorry to do it so suddenly, okay, but I was thinking it all over and—”

“—and _ what? _ When did you start thinking it over? The moment I left _ town?” _

“No! Not,” he scoffed. “I’ve been thinking it over for a long time now, and I just...I don’t think it’s gonna work out.”

“We’ve been together for a _ year.” _

“Exactly,” he shook his head. “We tried, and...and y’know, it wasn’t that bad, but Cartman, our senior year is only about a week from now and I can’t help but think about the future.”

“And you don’t think we have a future?”

“I’ve been thinking about _ my _ future,” he sighed. “And as serious as this relationship may _ feel..._you’re just...not a serious match for me.”

Cartman’s eyes widened. He cackled in amusement and it sent shivers down Kyle’s spine. “Are you _ Legally Blonde-ing me?!” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Legally! Blonde! _ We’ve watched that movie like three fucking times together, Kyle, I’ve sat through _ how _ many political documentaries with you, but you can’t remember the plot from _ one _ fucking movie I like?”

“Is that the movie where the girl turns into Jennifer Garner?”

_ “NO, _ THAT’S—Jesus Christ, you’re _ actually _ trying to _ Legally Blonde _ me!”

“I don’t know what that means!”

“Why don’t you think I’m serious enough for you?!”

“You know I’m an early admittance applicant for Yale,” Kyle sighed. “I wanna go into law. We’ve had this conversation a _ thousand _ times before, and still, you wonder why you aren’t a—”

“Oh my fucking God. He’s _ Legally Blonde-ing _ me. Kyle, you’re _ actually Legally Blonde-ing _ me. I can’t believe you’re _ Legally Blonde-ing _ me.”

“Cut that out!” Kyle snapped. “I have no fucking _ clue _ what you’re talking about.”

“It’s the movie about the girl who—_ never fucking mind; _ I know how the movie ends. You’ll see.”

“This isn’t a _ movie, _ Cartman, God, this is exactly what I’m talking about. This is real life, okay?” he glared. “This is real life, and I’m taking my future very seriously. And I need to either...either, no, not 'either'. I just need to be alone. I need to spend less time on _ this, _ and more time on school, and volunteering, and myself so I can get into Yale. So I can _ focus _ on that future. And you don’t wanna be with someone who isn’t focused on you, right? It’s what’s right for both of us.”

“Oh, please, stop trying to act like you’re doing me any favors,” he spat. “Is it because I have a penis, _ Kyle? _ Is it because I have a _ penis? _ You a fucking _ homophobe, _ Kyle?”

“Dear God,” he scoffed. “Could you stop _ saying _ that?”

“You thought the _ best _ day to break-up would be on our _ anniversary?” _

“I’m sorry, okay?” Kyle sighed. “I’m really, and sincerely sorry. But what was I supposed to do, keep on pretending like things were gonna work out?”

“Any day but our anniversary, Kyle. You could’ve picked any other day.”

“Cartman, _ please,” _ he swallowed. 

Kyle was a frequent sufferer of guilt and ironically enough, a lot of that he owed to Cartman. No, he didn’t see him as a serious match. How could he be serious? Kyle’s mother wouldn’t care about the race, orientation, the sex of his partner, but _ he _ did. And while he did love Eric Cartman, he just wasn’t a smart choice. Kyle was a smart guy. He was a triple threat varsity athlete. He was on student council and in debate club. Granted, yes, Cartman was _ also _ in debate club and yes, Cartman had also been attending therapy for years now and he was medicated, and while he could still be controversial, loud and indefinitely obnoxious, he _ had _ shaped up to be a much better and quite _ likeable _ person. But that still didn’t mean he was a smart choice for Kyle. Not when Cartman was still a frequent distraction and if he were being real with himself, not a viable choice for any relationship of the _ adult _ variety. Kyle was just making the logical choice. It wasn’t his fault that it hurt.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

He only stared back in response. Eyes cool and stony; arms crossed over his chest.

“Cartman, please talk to me. We can work it out.”

Nothing.

“I have to start making serious choices for my future,” he tried. “It’s nothing personal, okay? You know we’ll always be friends. Sorta-friends.”

“Hey Kyle, _ seriously?” _ he scoffed, reaching for the door-handle. “Fuck you.”

The door slammed behind him. 

Kyle left his gift unwrapped, but it sat at the very foot of his bed that night and he didn’t sleep a wink.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Senior year kicks off and Kyle receives the cold shoulder from Cartman. [Relationship flashbacks]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll try updating weekly! i hope y'all are enjoying it so far, i know this is only the second chapter i've posted but i'm stoked. sp23 premiere this week babes

The first week of school was typically awkward, just as a standard and a consistent rule. It was just a _ little _ more awkward when you and your long-term boyfriend had broken up only a week ago.

That same time last year, Kyle had picked Cartman up for school. Cartman had slid next to him into the passenger seat, grabbed him by the face and smashed their mouths together. And while he’d initially been pissed off, he’d liked it. Cartman was _ greedy _ for affection and greedy for PDA, which Kyle _ never _ allowed. The fact they’d been able to keep their relationship a complete secret for an entire year was nearly miraculous considering how desperately Cartman needed intimacy. But he had respected Kyle’s wishes. He’d let them remain private about it because it was the only way Kyle would allow their relationship to exist. And now that it was over, it had never even _ happened _ from an outsider’s perspective.

Minus Stan and Kenny and Butters, who knew about the breakup. Stan rolled his eyes; Kyle and Cartman had taken a few brief “breaks” before. Kenny didn’t take it seriously. But it had been a week and they hadn’t spoken and that pretty much solidified it.

“What’s it like?” Stan asked. They stood in front of his locker in the senior hallway. Kyle was dreading homeroom. Kyle _ Broflovski _ and Eric _ Cartman _ were pretty much destined to be locker buddies and partners and sat next to each other in homeroom for the rest of their high school careers — and Kyle wasn’t certain if he could handle an entire year of awkwardness and the cold shoulder. Before dating Cartman, he’d thought he’d appreciate a Cartman-less existence. Now, he stood corrected.

“What’s what like?”

“Like, having dated…_Cartman,” _ he whispered the last part. “For like, two years too.”

“One year,” he corrected. “We broke-up on our anniversary.”

“Felt like two years for me,” he shrugged, slamming his locker shut. “You and Cartman making out on my family’s couch isn’t just something I can magically scrub from my memory.”

“Then you shouldn’t have walked in on us,” he glared, slouching against the lockers. “And keep your _ voice down.” _

“I don’t even get you,” he muttered. “Why date someone if you aren’t _ open _ about it? Why date him at _ all?” _

“It’s complicated.”

“You guys are really over?”

“It was my decision, Stan,” he shrugged. “I mulled it over long enough.”

“You guys have never stayed broken-up long.”

“It’s for real this time,” he said. “It’s over.”

* * *

Eric Cartman wasn’t known for taking the high road. And though they hadn’t been married, a serious break-up resulted in divorce-like consequences. Cartman got Kenny in the “divorce”; Kyle got Stan. Stan and Kenny spoke when they could, but never with Kyle and Cartman together. It was too uncomfortable.

Lunch that first day back could’ve been unbearable. Usually, Cartman helped Kyle pick out his clothing over the course of the week, as Kyle was fashionably-challenged. Shopping dates had become a regular part of their relationship. They’d drive into the city and go to the Denver-exclusive stores at Cherry Creek Mall and Cartman would pick out a whole stack of jeans, hoodies and brand-name t-shirts for Kyle to try on, then charge to his mother’s credit card. She’d done the majority of shopping for her eldest son, pre-Cartman-relationship. Granted, she didn’t know Cartman was her son’s _ boyfriend _ and not just someone he was hanging out with, but it didn’t matter at the end of the day. She was just happy Kyle was putting a little more effort into his appearance.

So on the first day back, he’d almost not known what to wear, but he’d dated Cartman long enough that he felt confident he could pick something at least _ decent _ to wear. A hoodie and jeans and the overly-priced sneakers that had been chosen for him earlier that year. And his ushanka had been tossed into the Broflovski winter storage, for when he’d _ actually _ needed it and wasn’t just avoiding putting any effort into his hair, which he’d managed to grow out and style by then.

“Kyle, _ hey! _ Over here!”

He’d become so accustomed to scanning the cafeteria for his main circle of friends, that he was nearly shocked when Token called out to him. Token, Kevin and a few of the other varsity athletes. The cheerleaders. Stan and Wendy. No Kenny, no sign of Cartman. He sighed a huge breath of relief and made a beeline for their table.

“Come sit,” Nichole scooched over, making room for Kyle. “We were just talking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I didn’t know you’re applying to Yale with Token.”

“Oh, no, no, no, he got that idea _ all _ from me,” Kyle joked. “He’s trying to cheat me out of a spot, ‘cause he’s jealous I’m gonna be point guard this year.”

“You fucking _ wish!” _ he laughed. “C’mon, c’mon, Kevin, you know I’m making point guard this year.”

“Why not me?”

“‘Cause me and Kyle are the best two players” he shook his head. “And now that we’re the senior class…I don’t have any real competition left.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about that,” Kyle teased. “You’re lucky we’re early admittance, ‘cause point guard would’ve looked great on my Yale application.”

“You hear anything yet?” he asked. “I’m kinda panicking, to be honest, but knowing earlier will give us time to find a second choice school.”

“I don’t want any other school. I’m going to Yale,” Kyle shook his head. “It’s got one of the best law programs in the country.”

“What, no Harvard?” Wendy raised a brow.

“Harvard’s all name,” Token waved her off. “Yale’s a great school. My dad’s alumni.”

“So you’ve already got an in,” Nichole laughed.

“Hey, I’ve earned everything I’ve ever gotten in life, okay?” he nudged her. “I’m dedicated.”

“I know,” she smiled. “I’m just teasing, dumbass.”

“In all seriousness, though,” Token nodded, unpacking his lunch. “Wendy’s an Ivy League applicant too. So, we were thinking of forming a little study group if you’re interested.”

“Yeah, yeah definitely,” Kyle agreed. He unwrapped the power bar that’d come with his lunch and broke off a piece. “Actually, that’d be great. I usually study alone, but it’d be nice to branch out.”

“We’re meeting after class either on Tuesdays or Thursdays,” Wendy chimed in. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t conflict with anything as far as I know,” Kyle shrugged. “I’m down.”

“Alright, bet,” Token grinned. “You’re only bringing me one step closer to Yale.”

“You’re on.”

Lunch conversation fizzled down and Kyle began feeling a lot more at ease. Things had been _ weird _ since the break-up; it was almost weirder that it _ hadn’t _ been a public relationship because he couldn’t speak of it aloud. To the rest of the world, he and Cartman had never even had a relationship. The consistent homoerotic subtext between the two had become glaringly obvious over the years but no confirmed romance between Kyle and Cartman was a thing of reality, not until junior year. And now, it was over.

His heart only jumped when he spotted Kenny and Cartman in the lunch-line. Kenny only ever brought bagged food. The McCormicks couldn’t afford hot lunch and that meant they were in line for Cartman. He was never certain how Liane could afford to pay for daily hot lunches either. She didn’t make a whole lot of money.

Kyle averted his eyes and _ prayed _ Kenny and Cartman weren’t planning on sitting at his table. He didn’t think he could handle the awkwardness, but Kenny was on good terms with every other person in their extended friend group, so it would make sense if he _ did _ want to sit with them.

He and Cartman walked straight past the table. And Kyle was almost disappointed when Cartman still refused his eye contact; strutting right by their table in that stupid Supreme hoodie and the Adidas flips he wore religiously; even in the winter! Kyle always warned him about frostbite and Cartman’s solution had been adding socks. As if that made things any better.

“Hey,” Stan nudged him. “Still getting the cold shoulder?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I mean, it’s not like I wanna talk to him either, but it’s getting old.”

“I mean, you were together for an entire year,” he shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d wanna talk to you either.”

“That’s fair,” he sighed. “I don’t know, I just...it’s _ weird.” _

“Believe me, I know. When Wendy and I called it quits for good a few years ago, it was really awkward at first.”

“No, I mean...we’ve been broken up for an entire week now and he still hasn’t tried anything.”

“You think he would?” Stan raised a brow. “I thought you said he’d ‘changed’.”

“No, and he _ has _ gotten better,” Kyle murmured. “But he’s still _ Cartman. _ I’m expecting _ something _ petty out of him.”

“You sure you’re just, like,” Stan lowered his voice even further. “Kyle, are you sure you don’t just regret breaking-up with him?”

“What?”

“I mean, like...you guys seemed...happy together.”

“It’s not a matter of how happy we were, together or not,” Kyle mumbled. “It’s about taking my future seriously. Making decisions towards my future. And Yale and Cartman just don’t go together.”

“Okay, Kyle,” he shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy.”

* * *

He was still fixated on Cartman, right up until the end of the day. Homeroom had been unbelievably uncomfortable, but having a locker right next to him was even worse. At least they had their own lockers this year. Last year because of a shortage they’d had to have been “locker buddies”, but at the time they’d been dating and Cartman would leave him inappropriate notes in between class that both infuriated and turned him on a little. There would be none of that this time around. He kept the few really sweet and sappy notes in his underwear drawer back at home.

Kyle was digging through his locker when he saw Cartman approaching. His hair was still stylishly dishevelled and ever so _ slightly _ highlighted. Kyle used to be the one who got dragged along to the salon every damn time he needed a touch-up.

_ “I don’t wanna look fucking ratchet, Kyle. I _ need _ this.” _

Dating Cartman had been like having an obnoxious, foul-mouthed and extremely clingy girlfriend. And maybe he missed it a little.

But if Cartman were missing Kyle at all, he didn’t make it too evident. He approached his own locker briskly, without so much as a ‘hello’ and threw it open, slamming his textbooks inside. Maybe passive aggression _ was _ a big hint that he missed Kyle; still, he missed Cartman’s direct approaches.

“Hey,” he tried, with a wince. “How, uh...how was your first day back?”

Nothing.

“Cartman, come on,” he muttered. “It’s been a week. Can’t we be _ civil?” _

He let his middle finger speak for him instead.

“Oh, real mature,” Kyle glared. “You know it actually looks _ weirder _ when we _ aren’t _ talking to each other at all?”

“Then deal with it,” Cartman hissed under his breath. _ “I’m _ not the one who broke up with you on our anniversary. That’s all on you.”

“Listen, I’ll admit it was terrible timing, okay?” he sighed. “But in my defence, I didn’t actually _ know _ it was our anniversary. It was unintentional.”

He turned and made actual eye contact with Kyle for what felt like the first time in forever, but his wide-eyed glare wasn’t a better alternative. “So, I was _ right! _ You just..._forgot _ our anniversary?”

“No, no, no! I didn’t, I swear,” Kyle hesitated. “I knew it was sometime in August, I just didn’t know the exact date. I mean, technically there _ was _ no official date, we never really _ had _ an official anniversary date.”

“Yes we did, it was—it was fucking—” he sputtered. “I only reminded you, like, twenty thousand times!”

“Well, so what?” Kyle snapped, leaning in closer. The halls had mostly cleared by then, but he wasn’t taking any chances. And it wasn’t out of the ordinary for he and Cartman to have private little fights like this even in public and prior to dating. “Cartman, it’s just a fucking _ date. _ How about all the other amazing things I did for you, huh? We did _ everything _ you wanted on Valentine’s Day. And I mean _ every. Single. Thing. You wanted.” _

“Yeah, and you never did do that a second time, did you?” he rolled his eyes. “I know if I had a _ pussy _ — _ ” _

“Keep your fucking voice down,” he hissed. “All I wanna do is talk, okay? And you’re making that really difficult for me.”

“Well, we talked,” he snapped, slamming his locker shut. _ “Seriously, _ Kyle. _ Seriously, _ don’t talk to me. Okay, do you get that? I’m _ serious.” _

“Oh, come _ on.” _

“Don’t call me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it!” Kyle snapped. He watched Cartman storm off down the hall and the stairs and his eyes never abandoned their station. He wondered if momentarily, he really had been wrong. The decision he’d made had been for himself, but the consequences were impacting someone else that even then, he still cared for. But it wasn’t unlike Cartman to act out and behave immaturely as is, so he tried to avoid that pattern of thoughts. He only shook his head and returned to organizing his locker.

* * *

So, Kyle and Cartman had been in a relationship.

Initially, they were met with shock. Granted, the only three people who _ knew _ they were in a relationship were Stan, Kenny and Butters. Butters rarely ever hung out with them anymore, but Cartman had a big fat mouth and had to go blab it to Butters and then Kyle had to vaguely threaten him into keeping it a secret and Butters had to remind Kyle that he didn’t care about him enough to go sharing he and Cartman’s business with the rest of the town. Kyle didn’t think that was true, but considering the news had never leaked, it looked like he had kept his word.

Cartman had come out at the end of tenth grade and Kyle initially didn’t believe him. He’d suspected Cartman was gay when they were children, but he didn’t know if he believed that Cartman was being _ genuine _ about it or not — had he come out because he’d actually realized he was gay or was he coming out because he loved the _ attention? _ Or even worse, did he have ulterior motives? It was hard for him to take anything Cartman said as 100% truth and testimony, but when he’d brought it up to Stan and Kenny privately, they’d both given him a weird look and spelled it out for him: _ “Yeah...he’s gay.” _

And that didn’t mean that Kyle and Cartman _ instantly _ became an item.

Technically, they’d been an item for years. Just not an official romantic item; but Kyle and Cartman definitely had a dynamic and complicated relationship that teachers, other classmates and close friends took note of over time. And as the years progressed, Cartman had grown up. He was far from perfect. He still made inappropriate jokes and stupid comments, but he was far from _ horribly _ offensive. In fact, he was more likely to lecture _ Kyle _ on whether his language was “PC” enough than the reverse. It drove him _ crazy. _

That being said, they maintained an emotional closeness that only grew with time. Cartman knew he was in love with Kyle. He was easy to play with. Easy to irritate. That was part of the appeal, but Kyle was appealing overall. Cartman found him attractive, handsome even. He was smart, in a gross and pretentious way, but _ nice _ to listen to. And despite their consistent disagreements and all the bickering, Kyle did care for him. It was hard not to love that about him.

Kyle’s feelings for Cartman were a lot more complex. He wasn’t attracted to other guys. He liked girls. It was that simple. But Cartman seemed to be the exception. Why was _ Eric Cartman _ the exception? Was it because he cared for him? Because he’d developed a sense of obligation; compassion for him?

Maybe.

It all started the summer before junior year, a month after Cartman’s big news, and Kyle couldn’t stop thinking about it. _ “Cartman” _ and _ “gay” _ made sense together in the same sentence, but he felt as though something was wrong. Something had changed.

“Cartman is...gay,” he’d murmured. “Cartman...gay. He’s gay. He’s really _ gay.” _

Stan and Kenny had been passing around a basketball, dribbling across their neighborhood’s court. Kyle usually played, no, instigated basketball games, but that night he had opted out and was instead, seated alone in the bleachers, obsessing over Cartman.

“Yeah, so?” Stan grabbed the ball from his opponent. He made a shot that narrowly missed the net, earning a snort from Kenny.

“So? _ So? _ What do you mean _ “so”?” _

“So what if he’s gay?” Stan shrugged. “I mean...you really didn’t see it coming?”

“No, I—no, I didn’t—” Kyle glared. “I don’t think he’s being honest.”

“We’ve been through this before, dude,” Kenny rolled his eyes. He swiftly nudged Stan aside, stealing the ball. “Cartman is super fucking gay.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

_ “Kyle! _ It means he takes _ dick!” _ Kenny snorted, aiming for the net. “He likes cock and ball in his mouth! Google’s free. So is PornHub if you’re that fucking curious.”

“I know what “gay” means, asshole,” Kyle snapped. “You don’t have to be facetious.”

“Speak English.”

_ “Sarcastic.” _

“I don’t know what to tell you, Kyle. He’s gay,” Stan sighed. “Isn’t this old news? I thought everyone was done obsessing over Cartman being gay.”

“Kyle isn’t.”

“He’s not gay!” Kyle insisted. “He’s just...he’s fucking around.”

“Dude, what reason would Cartman have to fake coming out for?” Stan asked. He made another attempt at a shot and this time, it swung through the net. He silently cheered as Kyle fumed on.

“To fuck with me?”

“Jesus Christ,” Kenny sneered, scooping up the ball. “So, Cartman came out to the _ entire _ school, just to fuck with you in specific? _ Really.” _

It had been a dramatic affair. Last day of class during assembly; Kyle and the rest of Student Council had finished up their presentation and before the principal could continue into his lecture, Cartman dashed onto the stage and grabbed the mic. A long-winded, and in his typical flair, _ theatrical _ speech, followed up by the three words that had gripped Kyle’s soul.

_ “I...am...homosexual!” _

Gay! He’d come out as _ gay! _ And Kyle’s hands had balled up into little fists; the student council’s presentation on summer energy conservation tips had been _ completely _ decimated by Eric Cartman’s big gay news, but Kyle could feel something else stirring within him.

Because if Cartman was _ gay, _ that made their relationship a _ lot _ more than just...sort of “friends”, sort of “enemies”, more-than-sort-of-codependent-and-obsessed. And it was the very thing Kyle had been trying to avoid admitting to himself for years and years and _ years. _

So he marched out of the assembly in anger and confusion, and all of that anger and confusion had stayed with him even a month into summer vacation. It wouldn’t go anywhere until he confronted it, but would he ever?

“Yes,” Kyle had glared. “Obviously to fuck with my head.”

_ “...why…?” _ Stan rolled his eyes. “How does Cartman being gay affect you at all?”

“You trying to tell us something, bro?” Kenny raised a brow suggestively.

“You knock that off,” Kyle barked. “He’s just...he’s using it to get under my skin, he’s using it to get attention, he’s using it to hold over my head and, and, _ guilt _ me into feeling _ bad _ for him, ‘cause now he’s the fat kid and the other poor kid _ and _ the gay kid. It’s emotional _ leverage.” _

“God, is it really that hard for you to just believe he’s gay?” Stan asked, ditching he and Kenny’s game. “Kyle, seriously, it wasn’t really a shock to anyone when he came out.”

“I’d already known for years,” Kenny shrugged.

“So, what? I’m _ still _ the only person in this entire godforsaken town who can recognize that Cartman’s full of shit?” Kyle spat.

“Dude, even _ Wendy _ believes him.”

“Well, _ I _ don’t,” he insisted, climbing down from the bleachers. “He’s messing with my head!”

Stan opened his mouth to speak, but he was silenced by Kenny’s hand gesture. “Don’t bother. Just let him figure things out for himself.”

“Where the hell _ is _ Cartman? He was supposed to meet us, like, an hour ago,” Kyle glared.

“Maybe he’s on a date,” Kenny chortled.

_ “What? _ With a _ guy? _ Shut the fuck up,” Kyle narrowed his eyes. “There aren’t any other single gay guys in town.”

“How do you know Cartman’s single?”

“Because who the hell in their right mind would date him?”

“You sound jealous.”

Kyle’s fists balled up. He could physically _ feel _ his inner rage bubbling over and metaphysically _ spilling. _ He’d stormed away from the other two without a conscious destination in mind. “You guys are absolutely _ zero _ help!”

“See you later, Kyle!”

“Shut up!”

He’d gone straight to bed that evening and couldn’t stop thinking about it. And it stayed in the back of his mind, just like an earworm; a repetitive pop song that wouldn’t get out of his head until he consciously made the decision to seek out the tune itself and press play and confront it instead of covering his ears with pillows and squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore the melody.

A day later, he went over to Cartman’s house and pressed play.

And right before they became high school seniors, just a year later, the song ended.

* * *

The second day of twelfth grade started fairly averagely, and then took a strange twist.

Cartman still sat in front of Kyle in class, and Kyle still couldn’t help but stare at the back of his hooded head and wonder when the hell things were going to go back to normal. When would he turn around again and pester him for a spare pen? Ask for their debate schedule again? Bat his eyes and ask if Kyle was coming over later; never again. But he wanted some sense of normality that he just wasn’t going to receive.

The bell rang and the class cleared without a single word uttered between the two. He should’ve known Cartman couldn’t handle an amicable breakup.

_ “Have you met the new girl yet?” _

Fourth-period physical education was the worst. It meant you either wasted half your lunch hour showering off the stench or you entered the cafeteria smelling like the inside of a gym sock. At least in mid-August, Colorado was still decently warm and they could play touch football outside. Everyone tended to take advantage of the nice weather as long it was still available.

“What new girl?” Kyle asked, wiping his brow. He and David Rodriquez had been playing a two-person game for around 20 minutes by then, but the sunshine was the only real reason either of them was sweaty.

“The _ only _ new girl,” he scoffed. “Not like it’s a common occurrence.”

“No, I haven’t met the ‘new girl’,” Kyle murmured. “What’s her name?”

“Don’t know. But she’s pretty damn hot.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. And she thinks she’s hot too.”

“Well, I can’t comment,” Kyle shrugged, tossing the ball his way. “I haven’t seen her yet.”

“Oh, you will,” David caught the ball, whipping it back over to Kyle. “I haven’t heard anyone shut up about it.”

“Yeah, you know you live in the middle of nowhere when a new girl is breaking news,” he murmured. “I’m sure I’ll see her around.”

* * *

Kyle opted to shower that day. Not because of all the talk about a “hot new girl”, but because he’d sweated through his gym t-shirt and it wasn’t attractive.

He was at his locker, grabbing books for next period and folding up his gym clothes when it happened.

The sound of a door slamming from down the hall broke the silence.

Kyle turned his head and there she was. Long, dark brown hair, glossy peach-colored lips and her body moved differently in the minimal daylight that leaked into the hallways through classroom doors. _ That _ girl, the same girl from that night back in July. She looked different in the light, but she was still _ that girl. _

New girls always caught the attention of many in a town as small as South Park, no matter what they looked like, acted like, spoke like, dressed like, but upon a second glance, he immediately recognized just _ why _ she was such a big deal. Because just like that same summer night, girls in small-town Colorado didn’t dress the way she did. The belly-grazing tank top and plaid miniskirt she was rocking with chunky name-brand sneakers broke nearly _ every _ single dress code South Park High School followed. Her skin was warm with a summer glow and her hair rippled down her back in slow motion. Her eyes were a deep hazel and her lips soft and supple. And she walked down the halls, eyes straight forward, fixated on whatever was before her, her direction; nothing and no one deterred _ that _ girl.

That was the kind of girl you didn’t forget. And still, there was something all too familiar about her, that Kyle just couldn’t put his finger on…

“She’s gonna end up in detention for that outfit.”

_ “Huh?” _

Wendy Testaburger raised a brow in Kyle’s direction as he turned around to face her. “That girl. Last year Bebe wore a spaghetti-strap tank top to chem and she was sent home on the _ spot.” _

“Who is she?” he muttered.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Haven’t introduced myself yet.”

_ “...huh.” _

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I...was just wondering...if you’re still coming to Ivy League prep today. After class.”

“Huh?” he muttered. “Oh yeah, me, you and Token? I’ll be there.”

“Great,” she continued. “I was thinking of inviting a few others too.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be fine.”

Wendy gave him a weird look, then shrugging it off with a sigh and opting out of their empty interaction. “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, see you then.”

The mystery girl carried on along down the hall and he didn’t see her again that week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle reluctantly attends Token's back-to-school party and a little less reluctantly meets someone special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PREVIOUSLY:** The boys headed back to class (senior year) and Cartman was still avoiding Kyle like the plague.

He didn’t see her again that week, but that weekend was another story.

Kyle was restraining himself from texting Cartman. Not because he was desperate for an answer from him; he just hated it when there was a lack of communication between the two. It was unusual and even slightly unsettling to not hear from him at all. But he’d made up his mind; they were over, it was for the best and if Cartman wanted to hold a grudge, there was nothing he could do to remedy that — except maybe _ beg _ to be taken back, but he didn’t want to resume their relationship or even start over. He had plans and he intended to follow them.

So that Friday when his group chat pinged with several notifications about a back-to-school party at Token’s, Kyle was ready for a distraction. Saturday night, parents out of town, lots of booze and probably weed; the perfect recipe for a high school party. And while Kyle wasn’t really a party-type, he was excited for the opportunity to take his mind off of Cartman.

Early Saturday came and went; he went for a morning jog while it was still warm and did as much homework as he possibly could. Yale had a long list of standards you had to keep up with, follow and study to death if you even wanted the _ opportunity _ to be waitlisted. He’d already submitted his application, and he intended to get in. He was bound to be nominated for valedictorian; he was an athlete, on several committees, smart as a whip and it did help that his family already had Ivy League connections. The way he saw it, acceptance wasn’t an option: it was to be expected.

_ “You look so focused.” _

He spun around in his desk chair, pushing aside his notebook as his mother entered the room with a steeping cup of tea.

“Hi.”

“Did you call Yale?” she asked. “Any updates yet?”

“Nothing yet. They have a lot of submissions to review,” he murmured. “I hope my essay was okay. If I don’t get in, I’ll have to reapply and think about other applications...”

“Oh, Kyle,” she rubbed his back. “It’s only August.”

“People who think that way don’t get into Yale.”

“I’m your mother,” she settled the tea down beside his lamp. “It’s my job to worry about you.”

“No need,” Kyle sighed, jotting something down in his notebook. “Even if I get accepted, I have to keep my grades up. Sooner I get my homework done, more time to adjust the things I go back on. Less time to stress.”

“I know, bubby,” she cooed. “I just wish you’d take a little time for yourself outside of school and Yale and all that. Eric hasn’t been here in a while.”

“Why would Cartman come over?” he muttered. Kyle hoped his mother couldn’t see the flushed redness creeping across his cheeks.

“I thought he was your friend,” he shrugged. “We’re saving a lot of money on food without him. That boy ate so much whenever he came over.”

“Yeah, his mother doesn’t cook a whole lot anymore,” he shrugged. “Fast food and TV dinners.”

“That’s depressing,” she took a seat across from Kyle on his bed. “Invite him and Liane over for dinner some time.”

“Fat chance,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Sheila frowned. “What about Stan? Kenny? _ David?” _

“I’m going to Token’s house tonight, Ma,” he sighed in exasperation. “I _ promise _ you I’m socializing, okay?”

“You spend so much time up in this room. I worry you’re not getting enough sunlight.”

“I’ve been playing basketball and soccer at the park with the guys literally _ all _ summer,” he reminded her. “Really, I’m not overworking myself.”

“You should bring Ike along some time,” she said. “He spends all his time cooped up on his laptop watching God-knows-what on YouTube.”

“I am _ not _ bringing Ike to practice,” Kyle scoffed. “But I’ll talk to him if you want.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m the parent.”

“Ma, really,” Kyle swivelled his chair around to face her. “I am _ fine. _ I’m just...Yale is an Ivy League school, y’know? I know I’m smart, but how do I know a panel of _ strangers _ is gonna get that from just reading my essay questions and scrolling through extracurriculars and reading my transcript, huh? I’m a public school kid from a town with _ one _ high school. I don’t have much of a shot unless I put my all into it. So that’s what I have to do,” he sighed. “My _ all.” _

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Sheila rose to her feet and kissed his forehead. “Have fun at Token’s tonight.”

“I’ll try.”

* * *

Kyle played designated driver as usual. Stan, David and Nichole piled into his car, squishing into the back while Wendy sat up front as a rule. She emanated authority and no one dared question it.

“What, no Bebe tonight?” Kyle asked.

“Your car can’t handle a sixth person,” Wendy noted. “Unsafe. And she’s getting ready with your ex.”

“...which ex?”

“Lola.”

“Right,” Kyle sighed a breath of relief. “No way Lola is DD’ing.”

“Lola’s such a lightweight,” Nichole laughed.

“Hey. She’s a sweet girl,” Wendy scolded. “But you’re right, Bebe’s driving.”

“I can drive if you wanna drink, Kyle,” Stan reached around the back of the driver’s seat. “I don’t mind.”

“I _ seriously _ don’t mind,” he replied. They’d entered Token’s neighborhood and Kyle carried on down the street, searching for a place to park. The road was already crowded with cars. “I’m always DD.”

“Yeah, that’s why I was offering.”

Kyle almost took him up on it but shook off the urge to drink. He didn’t _ need _ to drink. And he didn’t really want to either. “Dude, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. If you insist,” he shrugged. “There’s a space right there. In front of his neighbor’s house.”

“It’s not polite to park in front of someone else’s house.”

“They won’t care,” David insisted. “It’s not like you’re blocking their driveway.”

“Fine,” Kyle mumbled, pulling over onto the side of the road. The house in question was pitch black, with a single light emanating from its second floor. “You’ll have to remind me where we parked.”

“Yeah, we’ll let you know,” Nichole nudged Kyle’s shoulder as the other’s clicked open the car doors and clamored out. “Try to have a little fun tonight.”

Kyle pulled the key out of the ignition, then climbing outside with her. “You sound like my mom.”

“Your mom is the best. Not even a fair insult.”

“It wasn’t an insult,” Kyle laughed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He’d decided to go with something simple; a sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers with as much effort as he could put into his hair. When he didn’t wear it short, it required a lot more time and even then he wasn’t certain what he was doing with it or if it looked okay, but he must have looked decent enough for Nichole Daniels to be flirting with him. “She was on my case earlier about socializing.”

“You’re a social guy,” she smiled. “I just know from watching you, and Token, and Wends, that you could all use a bit of a break. Get out and have some fun.”

“That’s the plan.” The two approached Token’s house and Kyle took in their surroundings. High school party, mid-August, sun setting behind the clouds. It was a beautiful evening; maybe the first he’d made note of since the breakup.

“I’ve gotta go meet up with the girls,” Nichole brushed her fingers across Kyle’s arms as they stepped through the front door. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“See you,” he grinned. She returned a smile and disappeared into the crowd with a small wave.

There were usually a few big parties a year. A back-to-school party, Halloween, Christmas, generally people did their own thing on New Year’s Eve and then one at the _ end _ of the school year. A few birthday parties here and there. But if it was at Token’s, it was certain to be a rager. There was only one high school in town and it was an open invitation to anyone who wanted to come. In a town that small you knew _ everyone _ and so nearly everyone showed up. It was practically ritualistic: you didn’t ask someone if they were going to Token’s back-to-school party...they were already going without a question.

The music blasted and red cups were an accessory to every party-goer. Crossing over into the kitchen, Kyle spotted snacks and half-empty pizza boxes littering the table. A giant blue cooler stacked high with melting ice cubes and cans of beer, girly spirits and pre-mixed cocktails. He momentarily wished his friends hadn’t run off in such a hurry because he couldn’t find any of them, but his annoyance ended a second later when a felt a clammy hand paw at his back.

_ “Kyle!” _ Stan shouted. “Kyle, what’s going on man?”

“You’re drinking? Already?” Kyle replied, eyeing the half-empty beer in his best friend’s hand. “You were only gone a few minutes!”

“I know, but I haven’t had a drink in a while,” he laughed. “I’m celebrating! Senior year, baby!”

“You’re an obnoxious drunk,” he shouted over the music. “Maybe slow down.”

“Okay, yeah!” he took an ironic swig. “I’ll see you around, man!”

Kyle sighed and shook his head. “Let me know when you want me to drive you home,” he murmured.

“It’s okay, Kyle,” Wendy called. “I’m looking after him.”

Her arm was linked around Stan’s, but a drink was absent from her own hand. Wendy wasn’t much of a drinker. Kyle liked that about her. He found it honorable that even with all the drama Stan and Wendy had gone through up into junior high, they kept things amicable.

“I’m gonna go wash up,” Kyle nodded. “I’ll see you guys in a minute.”

He doubted they’d notice he was gone. Kyle wasn’t much of a party-goer and even if he made the effort to socialize, he doubted the others would notice when he disappeared for a while. Truth be told, he was still feeling out of it from the stress of applying to Yale and the suspiciously uneventful break-up with Cartman. Cartman, who hadn’t sent him one single petty text, not one single vague-post to social media, not one single weird gesture of love _ begging _ Kyle to take him back. Nothing.

And as sad as it was to admit, this party felt weird without Cartman by his side.

No, their relationship hadn’t been public, but usually, at parties, the two hung out, argued for a bit, headed home together and made out for a little while. Drunk-Kyle was a lot more affectionate than sober-Kyle. It wasn’t that Cartman took _ advantage _ of him, no way, he did respect Kyle’s space...but when both of them were drunk and Kyle was unhinged enough to push back Cartman’s thick brown bangs and kiss him softly and tell him he loved him without a prompted argument, he hadn’t felt any motivation to put an end to it.

And for Kyle, the thought of not taking Cartman home that night felt..._weird. _

He headed for the basement. Usually, there was a spare bedroom in there where he could go to clear his mind at a party. Occasionally, he and Cartman had used the one in Token’s basement as a secret make-out space when they were bored at a party and had to get away. His head throbbed in time with the beat.

“Kyle. Hey.”

He turned his head the moment he’d reached the bottom of the staircase. Kenny and Cartman were slumped back into Token’s recliner, chain-smoking. A few other stragglers sat around the flat-screen TV, flipping through channels, while the bass from upstairs pounded.

“You wanna cigarette?” Kenny offered with a crooked grin. Cartman was still ignoring Kyle. He rolled his eyes and took a long, effective drag.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Cartman says you smoke.”

“I don’t,” he glared. “He’s lying.”

“You _ used _ to smoke,” Cartman murmured. The reflection off the TV danced around in his lipid eyes. He was referring to the time that they’d shotgunned. He _ hated _ that Cartman smoked; he knew he was prone to bad habits like the very woman that raised him, but it hurt to see him waste his life and health away like that. Just once to humor him, he’d tried shotgunning, and again, it had only led into kissing. Everything lead right back to kissing.

“No. I didn’t ‘used’ to smoke,” he said. “And I thought we’d talked about you quitting.”

“I never said I’d stop,” he shrugged.

“It’s horrible for your health.”

“I know.”

“You’re giving yourself _ lung cancer.” _

He narrowed his eyes in Kyle’s direction, dramatically crossing his fingers together. “Here’s hoping!”

“You’re _ ridiculous.” _

“You’re a douche.”

“Guys, please,” Kenny leaned over to grab a swig of his beer. “Quit the foreplay.”

“Cartman, put down the cigarettes.”

“You’re not my fucking dad.”

“Thank _ god _ for that!” he spat. “That’s not a position _ anyone _ could handle.”

The air around them was thick with tension. Both went silent and Kenny lit another cigarette. “Well,” he shrugged. “You sure you don’t want a smoke, Kyle? It might take off the edge.”

“Absolutely not,” he glared. “Cartman, you’re just doing this to spite me.”

“So what if I am?” he murmured lowly. “Go the fuck home.”

“You’re making yourself sick.”

“Kyle, lay off, Jesus Christ,” Kenny laughed. “I thought you were broken-up.”

“Keep your voice down,” he snapped.

“Relax, dude,” he took a drag, passing another cigarette to Cartman. “Those kids are blazed outta their minds. They aren’t even listening to us.”

Kyle’s fists clenched together. He watched as Kenny lit the cigarette dangling around Cartman’s mouth. Smoke clouded the air and his eyes looked glassy, as he rested his face between the palms of his hands. He didn’t smoke when he’d been dating Kyle. Only with Kenny. Kyle didn’t like watching him smoke; his own father had smoked when he was very young and he’d once recalled hearing an argument between his parents about it. Gerald sneaking in cigarettes and smoke breaks at the office to take off the stress; the workload of a starting at a new firm in Denver, before he’d been able to start his own small practice in town. _ Don’t you wanna see Kyle grow-up? What kind of example are you setting for him? You could get lung cancer; I don’t know what I’d do! _

But Cartman didn’t see things that way. He was raised in an environment that nursed substance abuse; he and Kenny were born into it. People like Gerald Broflovski smoked because it was the “glamorous” thing to do, not to ease the pain and not because their parents were all “trailer trash” who were born with cigarettes between their teeth. Maybe if Kyle had told him he worried for his health, the cigarettes and poor eating habits, then Cartman would be more willing to give it up for good, but in typical Kyle fashion, he kept that detail to himself. Even having been in a relationship with Cartman, he wasn’t always ready to show him how much he cared and maybe if he’d cared enough, things would be different.

“Fine,” Kyle glared. “Enjoy the lung cancer.”

“Will do!”

Kyle shook his head, turning on his heel and heading for the staircase. Fat chance of him calming down now; Cartman knew how to rile him up, send him right up the walls and back down to the floor again. He had the uncanny ability to turn every single situation into an argument. And maybe he was still upset about the break-up; Kyle _ knew _ he was still upset and that was why he was chain-smoking in the basement with Kenny at Token’s party, instead of insisting on blasting his own Britney Spears and rap-boyband infused Spotify playlists upstairs, or making up bizarre cocktails in the kitchen or begging Kyle to sneak into the closet of that one guest bedroom on the second floor so the two could have some much needed alone time. He was still hurt and Kyle understood it, but it didn’t mean he didn’t resent his passive-aggressive attempts for attention.

“Hey, Kyle!”

He’d stepped through the doorframe, into the world upstairs where subwoofers throbbed and the chatter of nearly every sophomore, junior and senior filled the air and made it hard to breathe in. Seeing Token with a wide grin and cooled beer was a welcoming visage.

“Hey, dude,” Kyle weakly grinned, half-heartedly giving his hand a firm slap and shake: a ritualistic habit of the basketball team. “What’s up?”

“When’d you get here?” he asked. “Haven’t seen you around.”

“Maybe...15 minutes ago?” he shrugged. “Got caught up with something downstairs.”

“Hey, no worries, I’m not putting you on blast,” he laughed as the two headed down the hall. “You want something to drink?”

“Can’t,” Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m driving tonight.”

“You _ always _ drive.”

“I’m like, the only one with a car.”

“Spoiled,” he scoffed teasingly.

“Oh, fuck off,” Kyle laughed for the first time since he’d gotten there. “Your parents bought you a BMW last year.”

“Yeah, but it’s a few years old.”

“I hope you’re kidding.”

“C’mon, man,” he grinned as they reached the kitchen. Token made a beeline for the cooler, grabbing a can of beer. “This one’s like, 0.5% liquor. Practically water.”

“I don’t give in to peer pressure,” he joked.

“Wendy says you’ve been down lately,” he shrugged, tossing Kyle the drink. It satisfactorily smacked into the palm of his hand. “It’s a party. Have a little fun.”

“I mean, I’m trying,” he sighed, popping open the tab of his drink. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just a little anxious lately. I can’t shake it.”

“Yale stuff?”

“Yeah...just Yale stuff.”

“Felt that. Haven’t gotten a solid sleep since submitting my application,” he took a long and hearty sip. He paused momentarily and then gave Kyle a curious look, opening his mouth in hesitation. “I gotta ask you something real quick.”

Kyle eyed him tentatively. “Shoot.”

“How do you feel about Heidi Turner?”

_ “Heidi?” _ he raised a brow. “Uh...I mean...I mean, she’s cute.”

“No, not like that,” he shook his head. “I mean...like, I know you guys had that thing with Cartman, and—”

“Oh, what? No, that’s just. Elementary school drama, what?” he laughed. “No, it’s whatever. Token, that was like, seven years ago.”

“I’m only asking ‘cause Wendy wants her to join our study group,” he said. “She’s not applying to an Ivy League, but she’s looking to go to school out of state and she’s really, really smart. Might be a good idea to invite her.”

“Uh, yeah,” he shrugged. “I mean, I don’t talk to her or anything, but yeah. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“I figured you’d rather me ask,” he said. “Y’know, ‘cause she and Heidi are kinda friends, like they’re both on the cheer squad…”

“No, I get it,” he said. “Seriously, the things between me and Heidi and..._Cartman, _ happened in _ fourth grade. _ I don’t even know her very well.”

“Okay, sweet,” he grinned. “I just wanted to make sure it was cool.”

“It’s cool.”

“I’ve gotta go check on Clyde. I asked him to order more pizza and it’s been like, 45 minutes,” he said, shifting from his position leaning back against the kitchen island. “I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t think too hard about school. It’s the weekend.”

“I’ll try,” he sighed, taking a meek sip of beer. “See you ‘round.”

Token waved him off and then headed back to the living room, where Clyde was attempting to screw a strobe light into a lamp socket. It couldn’t possibly end well.

Kyle suckled on his almost non-alcoholic beer and slipped made his way into the crowd of people. Music blared and the bass throbbed. Girls wore whatever disobeyed the dress code at school and guys appreciated it. He watched Stan in the corner, chatting and dancing with Wendy and Nichole, and Bebe as she crept behind the three of them and wrapped her arms around Wendy’s waist, pulling her into a hug that dissolved into giggles as the two swayed to the music. He sighed and made a beeline for the wall; nothing and nobody could lift his spirits that night and he was afraid it wouldn’t change outside of the party either. 

Cartman, and Yale and the uncomfortable study group situation were all things he was trying to ignore. He needed a break.

“Hey, _ watch it.” _

“Oh, what?” Kyle blinked. 

He’d bumped into a girl, dark hair masking her face. She leaned over, readjusting her stance, and tugging at the hem of her dress. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Kyle’s eyes widened. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” she murmured, tucking her hair behind a pierced ear. Little gold hoop earrings dazzled in the minimal lighting. “But it was annoying.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Let me help.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” she sighed, accepting Kyle’s assistance. Looking upward, her eyes locked with Kyle’s and almost immediately her expression changed. It was that same girl from school. The new girl; the one from the moving trucks that summer, the one who dressed like she didn’t give a fuck about a dress code and wanted people to know it, it was _ her. _ And that night her cheeks glittered with something Kyle recognized as _ highlighter, _ something he only knew existed thanks to Cartman’s secret, extensive makeup collection. The girl’s eyes were full of life and her hand was locked around Kyle’s.

_ “...hi.” _

She cocked her head. “Um…_hi.” _

“I’m Kyle.”

“I know.”

“You _ know?” _

“I mean,” she mumbled. “I know people who know people. Not like this is a huge town.”

“Yeah...yeah, sorry.” he pulled her upward. She was barefoot which was maybe a little odd for a house party, but Kyle was certain Token’s parents would appreciate it. He stared down hesitantly at his own worn-out Adidas. “I mean, I should still introduce myself. Like, formally,” he murmured. “I’m Kyle Broflovski.”

“That’s a mouthful,” she softly released from his grip. “Teachers ever pronounce that correctly?”

“Uh, not usually. At least not on the first try,” he mumbled. “It’s Russian. Ashkenazi-Jewish.”

“Don’t worry, I feel you,” she sighed, brushing imaginary dust off her bare arms. “If I had a dollar for every time my name was butchered…”

“What’s your name?”

“Jen.”

“Very funny.”

“You haven’t heard my last name.”

“Which is?”

“Byun.”

“Chinese?”

“Korean,” she raised a brow. “You just assume every Asian girl you run into is Chinese?”

“I didn’t even know if you were Asian, okay?” Kyle stammered. “I wasn’t assuming anything.”

“Half-Asian,” she corrected. “At least you didn’t call me _ ‘exotic’. _ White guys _ love _ that one.”

“Hey, I feel you, okay?” he insisted. “I’m the only Jewish guy in town.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugged. “Didn’t mean to come for your throat.”

“It’s okay, I get questions like that too,” he murmured. “When we were kids, my ex actually...y’know, _ never mind, _ I just...I know how you feel.”

“So, where does the name ‘Kyle’ come from?” she asked. “Not a particularly Jewish name. I mean, I used to live in New York, I’ve never met a Jewish ‘Kyle’ before.”

“I’m...not sure, to be honest. It isn’t a Jewish name,” he muttered. “But my cousin on the East Coast is a ‘Kyle’ too.”

“Also Jewish?”

“My whole family’s Jewish.”

“Cool,” she mused. “Maybe I’ve run into your cousin before.”

“God, I hope not.”

“Oops,” she cocked a brow. “Do I detect bad blood between Kyle Broflovski numero uno and dos?”

“First of all, _ I’m _ the only Kyle Broflovski, okay? He’s a ‘Schwartz’,” he said. “And secondly...thank you for pronouncing my name correctly on the first try.”

“It’s a gift,” she shrugged coyly. “I wouldn’t dare preach something and not practice it too.”

“That’s refreshing.”

_ “Hmmm…” _

‘Jen’ stared him up and down. Her slim shoulders and accentuated collarbone sparkled with glitter body lotion and her lithe figure was covered by a thigh-skimming slinky black slip. Gradient acrylic nails and dark brown hair that spilled down her back. A gold chain around her neck that spelled _ ‘Jennifer’. _ Soft and plump lips, coated with strawberry lipgloss.

Kyle swallowed.

“You wanna go talk somewhere else?” she asked. “This party kinda fucking sucks.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“I mean, it’s fine,” she shrugged. “You can stay if you’d like.”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” he insisted.

“You seem used to being defensive.”

“Um, yeah,” he narrowed his eyes. “I guess you could say that.”

“Come on, then,” she motioned. “I just wanna get a drink, then you can walk me home.”

“You haven’t had anything to drink yet?”

“No way,” she laughed, but it sounded forced. “I’m used to bigger parties, just...people aren’t that trustworthy in large groups.”

He hesitated and then found himself following her through the crowd. Any other day he was certain she’d stand out, but it was a party so most people were dressed a little risque. “Yeah, no problem.”

“You want anything?”

“No, I’m driving.”

“Voluntarily?”

“I always drive.”

“Sounds like you need better friends,” she shrugged. They reached the kitchen and Jen dug through the cooler for a drink, picking out a hard cherry lemonade. She popped the cap and took a sip, lipgloss clinging to the lid.

“No, I...I don’t really drink anyway, and one of them offered to drive.”

“Was it a genuine offer or, an ‘I’m-offering-just-so-I-can-say-I-offered’ offer?”

He just stared at her. She cupped her drink to her lips with both hands, taking a sip and raising her brows playfully. She had every classic sign of a bored rich girl from a big city; nice clothing, no rules to play by, well-versed, dry wit and her big hazel eyes danced with amusement when she peered into the sea of fellow partygoers. She had an air of pretentiousness, with a strange sense of honesty. Like she was in on some big secret, encapsulating the whole town that only she knew about. And maybe she would share it with Kyle if he got close enough.

“It was genuine.”

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Now, walk me home?”

“You’re sure you wanna leave this early?”

“I came, I saw, I danced, I’m having my drink,” she spoke with finality. “I don’t live far.”

“I know.”

“What?”

“I mean, nobody really lives..._far _ from each other in a town this small.”

“...right,” she said, padding across the kitchen tiles. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t wanna finish your drink?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned in the direction of the front entrance. “I can walk and drink. I’m a good multitasker.”

Kyle followed. 

Jen dug through the front closet, searching for what Kyle assumed were her shoes. “You smoke?”

“Um, no,” he murmured. “It’s a bad habit.”

“Tell me about it,” she rolled her eyes, slipping into a pair of stacked shoes. “Everyone in our last city smoked. Gave me the worst fucking migraines. I had to start smoking just to conform and get used to the smell.”

“Do you still smoke?” he asked.

“You tell me,” she reached into her purse, slipping a cigarette between her lips and lighting the tip. “Host won’t care, will’e? We’re leaving anyway.”

“I don’t think he’d notice,” Kyle mumbled, as he reached for the doorknob. Cartman and Kenny had smoked often enough in Token’s basement without hearing any negative feedback. “But I do.”

Jen slipped through the front door, Kyle trailing behind her. Silky dark hair rippled down her shoulders as she clicked down the steps. “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

_ “This,” _ she gestured to her cigarette, taking a puff. “Does it bother you?”

“I mean, honestly?” he shrugged as the two made their way down Token’s driveway. The sun just barely peeked out behind the mountains and the sound of traffic from the highway hushed in the distance. Kyle usually didn’t go out of his way to inconvenience people, especially girls, but something about the way she asked alluded to there being no ‘right’ answer. “I have, uh. I have a few friends who smoke and, yeah. It does bother me.”

“Oh,” she mused. Jen dropped the cigarette to the ground, crushing its bright tip with the sole of her shoe. “Problem solved.”

He leaned down and picked up the littered remnants. “I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” she laughed softly, can of hard cherry lemonade still dangling by the tips of her fingers. “God, I can’t believe I was just ranting about how much I hate smokers, just to light up a smoke. I’m such a hypocrite.”

“It’s okay, y’know,” he mumbled. “Bad habits, right?”

“Yeah,” she sniffed. “Got a lot of those.”

“Don’t we all?” he laughed.

The two walked in silence for a moment. Jen crossed her arms over her chest in a shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “But we’re almost there.”

“Do you want my sweatshirt?”

“Are you even _ wearing _ anything under that?”

“Uh,” Kyle tugged at the hem of his sweater. “An undershirt.”

“We’re almost there, Kyle,” she laughed lightly. “I bet you offer up your sweater to _ all _ the girls.”

“It gets cold in the mountains!” he insisted. “I’m just trying to be hospitable.”

“Yeah, yeah. I can tell,” Jen rolled her eyes as her house came into view. She tracked up the driveway and Kyle hesitantly followed. “It’s okay, you can walk me to the door.”

He continued until they reached the front few steps and then he trailed behind Jen to her door. The lights were still off, save for a single violet-tinted room on the second floor.

“This is where I get off,” she raised her brows in emphasis, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear again. Kyle wondered if it was a nervous habit. “Thanks for walking me.”

“We didn’t get to talk much.”

“That’s my fault,” she wiped an eye. “Maybe next time.”

He tried peering into her eyes, but she was staring down at her own feet. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” she raised her chin with a swallow. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Your mood changed really suddenly, you just look,” he shrugged. _ “Sad.” _

“I’m just tired,” she smiled sleepily. “Liquor makes me tired.”

“Cigarettes can do that too.”

“Yeah, that too,” she agreed. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t let you walk home on your own.”

“Yeah and I don’t like walking home alone,” she murmured. “I mean, this is a small town, but in a city, it’s just...it’s not safe, I don’t know. I was afraid I was gonna have to go alone.”

“I’m sure someone would’ve offered. You’re gorgeous.”

Her eyes widened and Kyle was almost shocked by the pure stupidity his comment had exuded, but she just laughed. “Thanks, but, um, no, I don’t think so.”

“I didn’t mean that to be, like—”

“It’s okay,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “It’s okay, I just. It’s okay.”

“I’m, just. Like, I’m sure someone would’ve offered,” he insisted.

“No one’s spoken to me since I got here,” she rubbed her arm, leaning into the doorframe. “And I fucked up my applications and transcript, so I’m not even in a homeroom class yet, it’s just. Like, nothing’s gone right, not since I moved.”

“You don’t have any friends?” he asked.

“I went to cheerleading auditions. ‘Cause I danced in New York and LA, but I don’t know when they’re posting the team roster or whatever and I doubt any of those girls wanna hang out with me,” she shrugged with a laugh. “Like, I know I stick out like a sore thumb here. I’m not stupid. I guess I don’t give off a very friendly vibe.”

“The other girls didn’t even _ talk _ to you?” he frowned. “That doesn’t sound like them. I mean, we’re pretty...hospitable here, I’d like to think.”

“I mean, you guys all already know each other. You’ve all grown up together too, I’m sure,” she mumbled. “I didn’t come with very high expectations.”

“Well, if you ever need me...I’m around,” he shrugged hesitantly. “I promise you, this place isn’t as bad as it seems. My family moved here just before I was born and we’ve only ever considered moving once.”

Jen smiled and Kyle was hit with another weird wave of familiarity. This girl was _ familiar; _ why was she familiar? She’d mentioned living in New York and LA, was she an actress? A model? Where did he know her from?

“I’ll take that into consideration,” she slipped in through the door frame with a soft grin. “Drive safe.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kyle Broflovski.”

She smiled coyly, then softly closing the door behind her. Kyle waited until he heard footsteps padding up the stairs and saw the purple lights from the top floor dim low and then click off.

Kyle stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked the short distance back to the party. And he wondered if he’d ever know any more or less about the same girl he’d recognized from standing outside that same house, earlier that same summer. Her face was familiar but her essence was nothing short of enigmatic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! i know this fic just started but i'm really excited about it. i've always wanted to write something with more character-interaction which is maybe a little less common for ship-dominated fanfiction, but i hope it works. anyway, @ anyone out there reading this, hope you're enjoying reading it as much as i enjoy writing it (^: love u lots


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cartman is _not_ a petty ex-boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! there are pics in this portion of the story so pls lmk if they work or not. would appreciate it.  
i know this fic has been slow-moving so far but things are about to really pick up.
> 
> **RE-CAP:** Kyle went to Token's back-to-school party. He and Cartman got into an argument, and he met a girl.
> 
> ✿HMU✿  
discord: lai#1475  
peep my sp [tumblr](https://broflovski.tumblr.com/) (also @broflovski if the link doesn't work!)

On the first Tuesday afternoon of their study group, and second day back that week since the party, Kyle headed through the library, eyes scanning over the room for Wendy and Token. The two were seated near the back, tucked into a corner behind a few shelves of books, in solitary. Token was flipping through a philosophy textbook, while Wendy was busy at work, labelling and sorting through cue-cards. They didn’t even have any upcoming tests yet, at least not in any classes he shared with Wendy. She was just that prepared. Not that Kyle _wasn’t _but Wendy had always had a bit of an edge on him and every other kid in school.

He was still reeling from the events of that weekend. His conversation with mystery-girl, who now possessed a name, and yet remained as mysterious as ever. He hadn’t seen her yet that week. Not that he was seeking her out, but he hadn’t been able to find her over social media and he hadn’t seen her that Monday or Tuesday. He’d been staring at the back of Cartman’s head in homeroom, waiting for something exciting to happen; not that he was _ looking _ for her or waiting on anything. He wasn’t actively seeking her out, but he couldn’t lie to himself: Kyle wanted to see her again.

Still, he was focused. Kyle was determined to not just make it through senior year, but succeed and conquer. Yale was on his mind and Yale should have been the _ only _ thing on his mind. So he buckled down, dropped his books at the table and prepared to get to work.

“Hey, guys,” Kyle greeted, setting down his backpack and taking a seat. “What’s up?”

“I’m studying for physics, but we’re doing AP English today,” Wendy replied. “Did you finish the reading list?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Great,” she replied. “Token and I were planning on doing some review.”

“I’m down,” Kyle shrugged. “What’re you doing your essay on?”

“Not sure yet,” Token shut his textbook, slipping it aside. “I wanna do something a little more topical.”

“Anything Orwellian would make a good choice,” Kyle suggested, searching in his bag for his Macbook. “That’s my take.”

“Yeah, but everyone does _ 1984,” _ Token sighed. “I wanna do something a little more interesting. There’s nothing left to be said about anything Orwell’s written. It’s all been done.”

“If you have a fresh new perspective, that could be an award-contending essay,” Wendy shrugged. “It’s all up to you to figure out.”

“I mean, I already submitted my Yale essay months ago,” Token leaned back. “It’s a little too late to send them anything new of quality and it’s offtopic too.”

“All you two can talk about is Yale,” Wendy murmured.

“You really think you can handle Harvard?”

She narrowed her eyes in Kyle’s direction. “You don’t think I’m even a _ contender?” _

“No, no, you misread my tone,” he insisted. “It’s just...the competition, and like, all three of us are applying to Ivy Leagues, and we’re only...a small-town high school.”

“We’ve been competing against private school kids from Denver for years now,” Wendy pushed her cue cards aside. “We’re _ all _ contenders.”

“You think there’s some sorta limit on how many kids they can admit from one high school?” Token laughed. “College monopoly?”

“I mean. Yes, there is an obvious college monopoly, but that’s not what I meant,” Kyle hesitated. “Sorry, I’m just anxious.”

“You should consider talking to a counsellor about that.”

Kyle uncomfortable dug around his backpack. “I take medication.”

_ “Anyway,” _ Token cleared his throat. “Book discussion?”

“Sure,” Wendy sighed, flipping through her binder. Her notes were color-coded and tabbed with little notes. “I still have to go grab the book, but I’m considering doing my thesis on—oh, wait she’s here.”

“Who’s here?” Kyle asked.

“Heidi. I was waiting on her, but now I can go to my locker,” Wendy rose to her feet, waving to someone behind Kyle. “Heidi, over here.”

His back was turned and his eyes slightly widened at the mention of Heidi Turner. Even seven-years post the Cartman-situation, the two were on very, very casual terms and never spoke. Mostly because he was so certain that Heidi wouldn’t want anything to do with him. It was irrational, but so was anxiety.

“Hi. Sorry for running late, I had an appointment.”

“It’s okay, we haven’t started yet,” Wendy said, as Heidi set her stuff down next to Kyle. “We’re focusing on English today.”

Token raised his brow at Kyle, who glared at him and refused a look. He just cocked a grin and rose to his feet. 

“Wendy, I’ll come with. I’ve got snacks in my locker.”

“Sure thing,” Wendy said, as he joined her on the other side of the table. “Kyle, we’ll be right back. Fill Heidi in.”

“Sure.”

The two left and silence hung in the air. It wasn’t that Kyle was still angry about the fourth-grade drama because he wasn’t. It had happened _ seven-years-ago. _ Holding a grudge, especially considering he had been part of the guilty party, would be pathetic. But that didn’t stop things from feeling incredibly awkward.

“So, um,” he cleared his throat. “We’re discussing AP English this session.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, we’re doing essay-prep, I think,” he mumbled. “Nothing too extreme.”

_ Heidi Turner. _

She was 5'3 and petite, with rounded cheeks and wide, dark blue eyes. Same dirty blondish, maybe brownish, shoulder-skimming hair. She still wore bangs in habit, but today they were tucked off to the side. Her makeup was soft, displayed in minimal form. She was pretty, but Kyle found most girls pretty; what wasn’t to find pretty about _ girls? _ On this particular day, she was sporting an oversized grey knit-swear, stockings and ankle boots.

Heidi was a fairly quiet person. He didn’t really know anything about her these days, besides the fact that she was a member of the Animal Rights Club with Stan and also very interested in exploring educational options outside the town, or maybe even state. From what he _ did _ know about her, it wasn’t surprising. South Park had zero university options and Colorado clearly didn’t have anything that applied to her. Maybe she just wanted to get away.

At that moment, she was flipping through a day-planner, colored pens spread out in front of her. Her organization and attention to detail were admirable, even by Kyle’s own standards.

“Okay. Sounds good,” she commented, scribbling something into her notebook, before closing it shut. “Wow. I don’t think we’ve talked since tenth grade.”

_ “Ha.” _ Kyle choked. “No, it’s, uh. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Heidi agreed, putting her book aside. “I’m really glad Wendy invited me. I’m the only one of my friends who’s applying outside Colorado.”

“Where’re you applying?”

“A few different schools,” she mused. “I don’t know...I mean, I kinda wanted to go into medicine, so Chicago and California are top choices, but I’m also interested in psychology. And education.”

“What kind of psychology?” Kyle asked. “Like...to go into social sciences?”

“Sorta,” she explained. “But, more like...I don’t know. I’d kinda like to become a therapist.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she nodded thoughtfully. “Mental health is a really big deal to me, y’know...I’d like to help others find ways to cope with depression, anxiety...young people, mostly.”

“You could definitely study that too,” Kyle suggested. “Or go deeper into neuroscience.”

“That’s true,” Heidi shrugged. “I guess it all depends on the marks I get this term.”

“I feel you,” he murmured. “I’m still waiting to hear back from Yale.”

“That sounds stressful.”

“It is.”

Kyle could sense Heidi was a little tentative in her interactions, a little standoffish. She’d always been a very polite person, but maybe she was a little more hesitant to talk to guys, him in particular, because of her poor history.

Or maybe he was thinking too hard and she was 100% fine and he needed to stop assuming everything was about him. That could have been a big part of it too.

“Is...the study schedule we arranged working out for you?”

Heidi raised a brow. “The study schedule?”

“Like...Tuesdays...Thursdays…”

“Oh. Well, yeah,” she nodded. “We have cheerleading practice on Wednesdays and Wendy told me you guys have Debate Club on Mondays, so this kinda works out in everyone’s favor.”

“Token and I have practice Wednesdays too.”

“Cheerleading?”

“No,” Kyle stifled a laugh. “No, uh, basketball. I mean, I had soccer try-outs two weeks ago and then it’s football season, but soon after that. We both play basketball.”

She smiled, scribbling something into her once-abandoned planner. “I’m just teasing.”

“I know, I know…”

“Kinda sexist that they haven’t started a girls’ soccer team yet,” Heidi added. “No boys’ volleyball either.”

“Would you...try out for soccer?”

“No,” she said. “I’m not that into sports. The cheerleading team is more of a dance team anyway and I’ve been a member since..._elementary _ school, it’s just not fair to the girls who _ do _ wanna play soccer.”

“Yeah,” Kyle nodded. “I never thought of it that way.”

_ “We’re back.” _

Wendy had announced herself. Token trailed behind her and the two took their seats back at the table. Heidi flipped onto another page in her day-planner, thus ending her conversation with Kyle. He reached into his backpack for a textbook.

“Did Kyle fill you in?” Wendy asked, sitting across from Heidi.

“Yup,” she nodded. “Essay-prep.”

“Essay-prep,” Wendy confirmed. “Have you picked a subject yet?”

“I was considering something a little more modern, actually.”

“Like what?”

Token shot Kyle a look from across the table, that Kyle avoided. Cartman, parties, girls, they all took second priority this year.

Yale came first.

* * *

Wednesday morning proved uneventful. Cartman still hadn’t spoken to Kyle and Kyle hadn’t made any new efforts to talk to him either. The party had reminded him of their pre-relationship chaos that had once been the norm and it stung a little bit, deep, deep down inside. 

Granted, their relationship had been nothing short of chaotic even when they’d finally decided to settle in together and try to face all the feelings and conflict that came with those feelings. And once he’d reached the conclusion that he had to break up with Cartman, Kyle had known it would hurt and that he’d miss him. And he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t miss him at all, but life without Cartman was so much simpler.

Then, that Saturday had evoked something new within him. It was bizarre how fast and how easily Kyle could start looking at a girl differently once he’d seen through the cracks of a seemingly tough shell. He’d thought Jen was hard to crack and she probably was, but he recognized that there was something within her that was reminiscent of a much softer form.

It was homeroom; the first class of the day and Kyle was stuck staring at the back of Cartman’s head again. His hood was pulled up and he was scribbling furiously into a notebook. Kyle wondered if he was drawing. He was actually pretty good at it.

“Is this 12A?”

Classroom chatter died down and 25 eyes darted to the girl standing in the doorway. Hazel eyes met Kyle’s green and he swallowed. Plump lips and a short skirt. She smiled at him coyly, then turning her focus back to their advisor.

“You must be the transfer student…” she murmured, flipping through the class list. “You are…”

“Jen Byun,” she cleared her throat, twisting the strap of her backpack around her fingers. _ “Jennifer.” _

“Right,” she nodded. “Okay, well, the seating is alphabetical starting from the back, so...Eric, move forward a spot so Jen can fit between you and Kyle.”

“What?” Cartman groaned. “But we already have a seating chart.”

Kyle raised a brow. Of _ course, _ he objected.

“And now it’s changing,” she sighed. “You have nothing to complain about, Eric, you’re getting a spot closer to the front.”

“But, we—”

_ “Eric,” _ she directed. “Pick up your things and move forward. Everyone can follow. I need to keep track of you.”

“But—”

_ “Eric Cartman,” _ she warned. “I’m getting sick of the complaints. You are a young adult, behave like one.”

Cartman dramatically rose from his seat, scooping up his bag and waiting for the classmate in front of him to collect his things and swap. He tossed his backpack under the desk and returned to scribbling in his notebook. 

Jen’s eyes were absolutely _ glued _ to him. She ran a hand through her hair and then continued to the desk in front of Kyle, directly behind Cartman, avoiding eye contact with anyone; slipping her backpack around the backseat and taking a poised seat.

Kyle readjusted his position, eyes fixated on the back of Jen’s head. Her long, thick and straight hair slipped down her back and he watched as her back tensed and legs crossed together. She tugged down at the hem of her shirt, nervously bouncing her foot up and down and Kyle tapped her shoulder, hoping to speak before their class settled down.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she mumbled, softly turning her head.

“We’re in the same homeroom.”

“It’s alphabetical,” she whispered, pulling out a notebook. “Doesn’t shock me.”

“Yeah, but you were worried about registration and homeroom, right?” he shrugged. “All worked out.”

The classroom was briefly filled with the familiar sounds of books shuffling and chatter to their instructor’s dismay. Jen spun around in her seat, a strand of hair getting caught in glossed lips. She annoyedly brushed it away and peered into Kyle’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I mean, it only took them ‘til the end of the week to get me assigned to a stupid fucking homeroom class. But still more efficient than my last school I guess.”

“Y’know, my offer still stands,” he mumbled. “If you need anything, I’m always here.”

The slight trepidation he’d sensed started melting away as she nodded softly. “Yeah, of course,” she rested her arms against the back of her seat. “I might have to take you up on that.”

“I could give you a tour.”

“Of the school?” she laughed. “Yeah, don’t worry, I got that covered. Madame President was sure to give me the grand tour.”

“Wendy?”

“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “She let me know _ all _ about the fun little dress-code.”

“Wendy’s cool,” Kyle insisted. “She just...cares a lot. She wouldn’t wanna see you get into trouble.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jen shrugged coyly. “I’ve been warned more than once already.”

“Small-town Colorado isn’t entirely...open-minded.”

“Oh, believe me. If anyone knows that, it’s me.”

“We aren’t that bad,” Kyle insisted. “Seriously, you’re gonna make friends with the other girls.”

“Oh, but _ you _ and _ I _ are already such great friends.”

He smiled to himself, settling back down into his seat. “You’ll make _ other _ friends.”

“Yeah,” her polished nails clicked across the top of Kyle’s desk. _ “We’ll see.” _

* * *

And to Kyle’s surprise, the day only got a little more eventful.

At the end of lunch period, he spotted Cartman in the hall and decided to make _ one _ last-ditch effort to talk. He was still irate about their conversation at the party but determined to settle things once and for all, as to avoid future awkwardness between them.

_ “Cartman,” _ he mumbled. He had class in 10 minutes but figured he could make it. If Cartman wasn’t going to be cooperative, he’d be uncooperative in one minute _ or _ an hour. It didn’t matter. “I know you’re still mad, but I wanted to talk.”

So Kyle was a little bit shocked when he wasn't immediately met with the cold shoulder again.

“Oh, hey Kyle!” he turned around with a smile. “How’s it going, bro?”

Kyle’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Did you just call me ‘bro’?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I did, _ ‘bro’,” _ he grinned, giving him a playful nudge. “‘Cause we’re bros now, aren’t we, _ Kyle?” _

“Wait a minute, what’re you on?” he glared. Was this the same boy who’d practically thrown a temper tantrum when he was asked to change seats in homeroom? “Wait a minute, what’re you up to?”

“Kyle..._please,” _ he sighed, playfully tugging on his ex-boyfriend’s hoodie. “We can talk. We can _ definitely _ talk. Maybe by our lockers?”

Kyle blinked hesitantly. Just a few days ago, he’d been met by absolute stone-coldness from Eric Cartman. Now he was all smiles and not only _ agreed _ to “talk”, but actually _ wanted _ to “talk”. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay. Are _ you _ okay?”

“I’m fine, Cartman. What happened to the cold shoulder?”

He sighed. “Well, Kyle, that’s why I agreed to talk. But we can’t talk if we don’t communicate, isn’t that correct?”

“...are you _ drunk?” _

_ “Kyle.” _

He rolled his eyes and shook off the weariness he was still carrying around with him. In the year he and Cartman had dated, there had been several arguments, but Cartman had never done anything to _ hurt _ him. Rude comments between the two of them had been exchanged, but Cartman had been a surprisingly lovely boyfriend. He respected Kyle’s boundaries the majority of the time and when he didn’t, it was because he was desperate for hand-holding or cuddling or physical affection and even then, Kyle felt it wasn’t right to blame him for needing to be loved. He was raised by a neglectful mother with a history of serious trauma and mental health issues. Prescription drugs lined the Cartmans’ bathroom cabinet. Some weren’t even prescribed. Those were the ones that made Kyle worry for him…

So, yes. He had expected pettiness from their break-up, but not downright evil behavior. He hadn’t expected behavior like that for _ years, _ actually, and while Cartman was still Cartman, he’d proven himself to be capable of an improved attitude. Was it really out of the realm of possibilities that he was looking to talk and make things better? Maybe even become _ friends? _ And was it even fair for Kyle to be so apprehensive when he was the one who’d wanted to talk in the _ first _ place?

“Fine. Alright,” Kyle sighed. “But we only have five minutes before I have to go to my next class.”

“That’s all I need,” Cartman insisted, grabbing at Kyle’s wrist. “I just wanna talk.”

“Okay, okay, calm down, it was my idea, to begin with, we can talk,” Kyle pulled his arm away, following Cartman despite his initial resistance. “Jesus Christ.”

“Kyle,” he said, twisting open his locker and shielding the two behind it. Kyle rolled his eyes; it wasn’t as if other people couldn’t see them. “I just wanna..._talk _ to you.”

“Yes. You’ve made that very evident. I’ve been asking you to talk for weeks,” Kyle glared. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to clear the air,” he shrugged. “Y’know, because I’ve been...a little…”

“—you’ve been an asshole.”

_ “—standoffish,” _ he corrected. “I’ve been standoffish.”

“Sure, if that’s what we’re calling it now,” Kyle mumbled.

“C’mon, Kyle. I was upset. I was heartbroken. I was _ devastated,” _ he spoke in his usual dramatic flair. Kyle had almost missed it. “Don’t you think I’d deserved a little time to _ mourn?” _

_ “...‘devastated’?” _

“Yes, Kyle. _ ‘Devastated’,” _ he insisted. “I just needed some time to..._recooberate.” _

_ “‘Recuperate’. _ You needed time to _ ‘recuperate’,” _ Kyle sighed. “But I guess that’s fair.”

“Now, we used to be the _bestest_ of friends,” Cartman repetitively tugged on Kyle’s sleeve. “I think now that I’m over it, we can start again. Reunite the _ gang _ again.”

“I don’t ever recall us being best friends, but...sure,” Kyle rubbed his arm, leaning in a little closer. He had to keep his voice down. “Y’know...when I broke-up with you...I was just doing what’s best. For _ both _ of us.”

Cartman’s smile twitched in the slightest, but he blinked softly. “I know.”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I did _ want _ us to get along again,” he insisted. “But you wouldn’t let me in.”

“No, I do get it, Kyle,” he said. “You need to be single. You’re going to _ Yale _ next year. You need to focus on your studies. You need to start taking everything a lot more _ seriously. _ You need to focus on the _ future. _ You need to be _ serious.” _

“So you get it?” Kyle asked. “You...you _ understand _ now?”

“Oh, I get it,” Cartman smiled. “I get it, Kyle. I really do. I _ understand.” _

“Y’know...when you were being so _ cold _ towards me, it really did bother me,” Kyle expressed. “But I’m glad you’ve decided to take the high road. You’re really showing growth, Cartman.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled quietly. “I _ really _ appreciate you saying that.”

“But your progression is just...so impressive,” he continued. “Good for you.”

“Thanks, Kyle.”

“Well, I have to go to class now,” Kyle grinned. “We’re good now, okay? Friends.”

“Yup,” Cartman nodded. _ “Friends.” _

_ “Friends,” _ Kyle waved. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around, bab—_ Kyle.” _

“Have a good one!”

“You too, _ Kyle!” _

He turned down the halls and grinned to himself. Maybe his influence _ had _ rubbed off onto Cartman. Kyle could see the improvements to his attitude; he had helped him grow into a better person. Sure, he was still rough around the edges, but their relationship had never been a waste of time. Personal improvement from Eric Cartman was something he’d always considered to be a priority.

And now things could only get better for them, as the days rolled on.

* * *

Kyle set his alarm for 6 a.m. as routine. 

He woke up at five, worked out for half an hour, ate breakfast and then got ready for school. Even in the summertime, he tried practicing the same schedule, though he woke up a few hours later at eight and considered that “sleeping in”.

On Friday morning, he arose at 5 a.m. to his phone buzzing at an alarming rate.

_ It can’t be 6 a.m., _ he thought. _ It can’t be that early yet. _

And it wasn’t. But 5 a.m. and his phone chimed and wouldn’t stop. He rolled over and tried flipping it over for the extra hour of sleep, but as his eyes adjusted to the light, his eyes darted across the screen and hovered over block and block of text and he couldn’t help but look.

_“What?” _Kyle muttered, rubbing his eyes. “What the _fuck?”_

His heart pounded as he fumbled through the _Press home to unlock _phone display, wiped his brow and quickly scrolled through a few messages and tweets.

_ It’s five in the fucking morning, what the hell could possibly have happened?, _ his mind raced. _ It’s five in the morning. _

He fumbled through messages and social media and his body reacted with rolling waves of anxiety before he could truly even emotionally react.

_ “Kyle Broflovski said what?” _

_ “How could he?!” _

_ “I can’t believe anyone would say something like that.” _

There was an email from Yale.

“_What a fucking douche.” _

“_Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with people?” _

“_I can’t believe you’d say something like that.” _

It was only 5 a.m., but drama never slept.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and only wished he could fall back asleep.

_ There was an email from fucking Yale. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls lmk if the pics worked or not!! i would be disappointed if they didn't work but like, i'd rather know that not lol


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _#KyleIsOverParty_ — Kyle Broflovski gets Twitter-cancelled; Cartman talks shit, gets hit for it; a big secret is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PREVIOUSLY:** kyle's study group was uncomfortable and cartman was way too eager to get on his good side****
> 
> this chapter was sm fun to write u have no idea how much i love writing conflict lmao. ya girl was waiting for this one. PLS lemme know if the images don't work!!
> 
> ✿HMU✿  
discord: lai#1475  
peep my sp [tumblr](https://broflovski.tumblr.com/) (@broflovski if the link doesn't work!)

The air felt heavy with tension.

Kyle wiped his brow in desperation and sat up straight in bed. He had several new notifications and had only just woken up. Some had to have been from the kids pulling all-nighters, some from people like him who felt the need to wake up as early as he did and work out or study. Wendy qualified as the latter and the words of her tweet haunted him.

_ I’ve never been so disappointed with someone in my life. _

_ “Disappointed”? _What had he done that warranted any disappointment?

And what tweets was she referring to? Kyle wasn’t all that active now that school had started back up again.

He unlocked his phone and opened his text messages with Stan.

People kept mentioning tweets, and now texts. He was almost scared to find out what they were talking about.

He exited the messages app and hesitantly clicked on Twitter.

Was it about him? What was she talking about? He clicked on another one of her tweets to self-loathingly scroll through the comments and immediately had the wind knocked out of him.

_ “fuck kyle lmao. whos shocked tbh hes always been a bit off to me” _

_ “KYLE??? Same dude who called me a homophobe last month for calling something faggy?? Foh fake pc ass” _

_ “Girl just namedrop kyle broflofsky or whatever everyone knows this is abt him lmaooo poor token” _

Kyle’s heart pounded and he could feel his palms growing sweaty. _ What _ about Token?

_ Blocked _ on Twitter. He cursed himself.

Wendy wasn’t following Kyle anymore, but she hadn’t blocked him yet. He pulled open their direct messages in a desperate attempt for communication.

_ You know exactly what I’m talking about. _ Apparently, everyone was convinced Kyle knew what they were talking about, the irony being that Kyle appeared the be the _ only _ one who had _ no _ idea what anyone was talking about.

He opened up the Instagram app and was relieved that Token hadn’t yet blocked him there, but had messaged him instead. He typed out a panicked message but became even more confused with the response. What was he talking about? What was _ anyone _ talking about?

No one had answers. Why didn’t anyone have answers? Kyle dashed to his desk and took a seat at his MacBook, pulling it open and launching his Gmail account.

There it was.

Marked as ‘urgent’. It was from _ Yale University. _

He felt his heart crawl up into his throat and his fingers trembled with fear as he clicked open the email and scrolled through, eyes blurred with anxiety.

_ Mr. Broflovski, _

_ Post further revision, our Board of Admissions has deemed your application unacceptable. At Yale University, we pride ourselves on our non-discriminatory policies and will not accept any applicants who practice hate speech or suggest that our application process is racially-motivated or biased. _

_ You have been removed from the application pool and waitlist effective immediately, as you no longer qualify for early acceptance and we will ask you to reconsider your actions and apologize to your fellow applicant. As a consequence, your behavior will be kept on record and we have the right to refuse any future applications and communication from you._

Kyle’s body shook, as his eyes traced the screen. The official electronic signature, from the dean of Yale. He felt shivers spread down his body. If he hadn’t been seated at his desk, he’d surely have fainted from the shock.

Rejected. Rejected and _ not allowed _ to re-apply.

He wasn’t going to Yale.

_ He wasn’t going to Yale. _

It was over before it had even _ started. _

He wasn’t going to Yale.

_ His life was over effective immediately. _

And attached were the _ screenshots _ he’d been hearing all about.

Kyle’s six a.m. alarm blared in the back of his mind.

He hadn't remembered tweeting any of those. Saying any of those things. He wouldn't have, couldn't have, he _hadn't._ And what did any of that have to do with _Token?_

He didn’t even bother getting ready properly. He slammed his laptop shut and sat in bed for what felt like two hours, but hadn’t even come close to two hours. He rose to his feet like a ghost of himself. Didn’t bother doing his hair, brushing his teeth and picked his clothing out of the dirty laundry hamper. He forgot his anxiety medication. Kyle shook with absolute shock and rage; who on Earth would do it? Who would fabricate screenshots of him; who would send them out to his dream school, how could they? 

Who could _ do _ such a thing?

He had to run damage control.

He dashed down the stairs, searching through the closet for his fall jacket.

“Kyle?” Sheila stepped into the foyer, clutching a bowl of batter and smoothly stirring. Pancake mix. “What’re you doing?”

“Going to school,” he murmured. “What does it look like?”

“You haven’t even brushed your hair,” she sighed. “Aren’t those jeans stained?”

“Ma, _ seriously,” _ he snapped. “I have to _ go.” _

“I don’t appreciate that tone.”

Kyle _ never _ snapped at his mother. Never. Not even as a child. He’d almost always been obedient. Sometimes out of fear. “I have to get going,” he sighed, slipping into his jacket. “I really don’t care how I look.”

“But you’ve been putting so much effort into your appearan—”

“I have to _ go,” _ he sighed exasperatedly. _ “Shit, _ I forgot my laptop.”

_ “Language!” _

He ran back upstairs and down the hall, immediately distracted by the dishevelled person standing in front of the bathroom mirror.

Not, “person”. It was him.

Now he’d remembered why he’d become so reliant on that _ stupid _ fucking hat. Kyle groaned in frustration and headed down to his bedroom, dreading the deep search he was about to do through his closet.

_ “Kyle,” _ his mother stood in the doorframe, “Kyle, what’re you doing?”

“I’m going to school!” he tugged open the doors of his closet. “I need to get to school!”

“Bubby, it’s only seven in the morning,” she frowned. “I haven’t even woken up your brother yet. I’m still making breakfast.”

“I’ll get breakfast at school, it doesn’t matter!” he panicked, digging through a box of long-abandoned childhood memories. _ Where the hell is that stupid fucking hat?! _ “Don’t worry about it!”

“I’m always gonna worry about you.”

“Well, consider this your day off,” he sighed. Kyle had finally reached the bottom of his junior high memoirs. Nothing. _ “Jesus!” _

“Kyle, what’s wrong?” Sheila asked.

“Where’s my hat?!”

“The ushanka?”

“Yes!”

“It’s with all the scarves and hats and mittens,” she said. “In the foyer closet.”

“Fantastic.” He slammed the doors of his closet shut, slipping around Sheila and charging back down the stairs.

_ “Kyle!” _ she called. “Kyle, _ calm down!” _

_ I’m embarrassed to have called this person a friend. _

His head was throbbing. There wasn’t time to go through his entire family’s winter inventory; he just had to get to school and run damage control. Nothing else mattered; it was all about damage control. Kyle slammed open the closet by the front door, tearing through the bin of winter accessories.

“It’s gotta be here somewhere!”

“It’s tucked away,” she said. “Just take a moment to breathe.”

“No time!” he hurried. “Where is it?!”

“You’re having a panic attack!” Sheila worried, placing a warm hand over his shoulder. She’d abandoned her bowl of pancake batter upstairs. “Please, Kyle, you can’t drive in this state.”

He struck gold at the bottom of folded scarves and balled up mittens. Kyle sighed a breath of relief and tugged the temporary solution of a hat over his head. “I’m fine,” he insisted, grabbing around for his backpack. “I’ve gotta hurry.”

“Won’t you at least take something to eat?”

“I’ve got a protein bar in my bag, okay?” he said, reaching for the doorknob. _ “Bye.” _

Kyle slammed the door behind him and dashed down the front steps. His hands shook as he reached into his pocket for the keys to his car, but he resolved to remain a focused and safe driver. He was panicking, but this could be fixed; everything could be fixed.

He just had to be honest.

* * *

Kyle slammed close the door of his car, having parked in the student lot. He stormed down the concrete path to the entrance, and tore open the front doors to the school, pushing his way through the halls, and taking notice of all the unwarranted attention he was receiving and shocked onlookers. Was it because of his _ attitude? _ The poor way he’d dressed that day? Had the scandal _ really _ spread schoolwide by then? Who knew about the screenshots? Who knew about the tweets?

Who thought they were _ real _ and who else _ hated _ him?

He was relieved when he spotted Nichole at her locker, chatting with Red. Their lockers weren’t too far from each other’s; thank _ God _ for Nichole Daniels. He sighed a breath of relief and made a beeline for her.

_ “Nichole!” _ he called, reaching the two girls. “Nichole!”

“Kyle,” she mumbled. Nichole’s eyes moved upward and reluctantly connected with his. “Um, hi.”

Red raised a brow in Kyle’s direction, then rolling her eyes and giving Nichole a look. “I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Nichole nodded, as Red headed off in the opposite direction. “I’ll see you around.”

Kyle swallowed, hoping the look of displeasure he’d received from Red was that of indifference and not hate. He turned back to Nichole and readjusted his stance. “Hey, so...I was hoping we could talk.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

He frowned. Now she was refusing eye contact. “Why not?”

“Kyle, c’mon,” Nichole sighed, and hid behind her locker. “You know why.”

“I really, _ really _ don’t,” he insisted. “Please, just talk to me.”

“Kyle, I really don’t want to talk,” she shook her head. “You know why I don’t wanna talk, just leave me alone, okay?”

“It’s because of the tweets,” he decided aloud. “It’s because of the tweets, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “It’s because of the tweets. And the texts.”

“Nichole, they aren’t _ real!” _

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that,” she spoke somberly. “But I stand by Token and what you said was frankly, just...just...degrading and hurtful.”

“Nichole, _ please,” _ he insisted. “You know me! We’ve known each other since, since, elementary school! We _ dated!” _

“We went to a school dance together, back in the ninth grade,” she said. “It’s not that deep.”

“But you _ know _ me,” he grew desperate. “You know I’d never say things like that.”

“Not to my face,” she slammed the door of her locker shut. “But Token felt the exact same way, and now we know how you really feel.”

“But, Nichole, I—”

“Did you ever even stop to consider how _ I _ would feel about seeing that?” she asked. “Did you ever stop and think about how it might be hurting _ me too? _ To see someone I trusted say such fucking _ horrible _ things; you ever think about that? And I wanted so _ badly _ to believe they aren’t real, but the proof is right there.”

“I swear to God,” he pleaded. “Nichole, they aren’t _ real!” _

“That’s what everyone says,” she laughed sadly. “But I trust Token and I support him and I have to stick by my guns.”

“They aren’t real!” he snapped. “Those screenshots _ aren’t fucking real!” _

“Don’t speak to me that way,” Nichole glared. “Yale’s staff seems to know they’re pretty damn real and I trust their credibility and Token’s credibility a lot more than _ your _ credibility at the moment, so just leave me _ alone.” _

“Nichole—”

“—just _ stop!” _ she retorted, turning away. “Leave me alone, Kyle. Just _ stop, _ please!”

He stood alone, in the clearing hallway. Nichole thought they were real? _ Nichole? _ Now _ Nichole _ thought he was insensitive, and prejudiced and _ racist _ too? He couldn’t take it.

Kyle continued along down the hall, seeking out the library. If he’d find Wendy or Token anywhere before class, it would be there. They were _ always _ studying together in the library.

He pushed through the entrance doors, receiving an irritated look and _ ‘shush’ _ from the librarian. Kyle’s body trembled with anxiety, as he tore through the building in search of his study group. He couldn’t believe it. If Nichole Daniels didn’t believe him, who _ would? _ He couldn’t lose one of the nicest, most good-faith, people he knew; who else believed he’d really said all those horrible things? 

And how fast was it spreading?

Token and Wendy were seated in a corner of the library, speaking to each other in hushed voices. Their textbooks and laptops remained unopened; their expressions a mixture of angry, confused and upset. Token wouldn’t look up from the desk when Kyle came into sight, but Wendy did and her eyes were immediately filled with what looked like pure, unadulterated rage.

_ “What are you doing here?” _ she snapped.

“We need to talk,” Kyle glared. “We seriously need to have a conversation.”

“Fine. _ Talk,” _ she spat. “Why the fuck do you think you can go around saying horrible things like that without being held accountable for it?”

_ “What?!” _ Kyle narrowed his eyes. “I never said those things! Those screenshots aren’t fucking _ real!” _

“Really, Kyle?” she shook her head. “Because I’m sure the admittance staff up there at Yale just _ love _ faking screenshots and tweets and text messages in their spare time, specifically to ruin _ your _ life, right?”

“Maybe they do!” he barked. “I can’t think of any other explanation!”

“I have _ no idea _ what Stan saw in you for so long,” she shook her head. “I always suspected that white savior complex of yours ran a little too shallow and it looks like I wasn’t that far off.”

Kyle pinched his eyes shut in anger. “White savior complex”? _ “White savior complex”? _ Who did Wendy Testaburger think she _ was _ speaking to him that way?

“I’m a good person,” he shook. “I don’t do _ anything _ if it isn’t genuine!”

“This is a _ library, _ Kyle,” Wendy glared. “Can you keep it down?”

“No, I _ can’t _ keep it down!” he ground his teeth. “I’m being accused of something I didn’t even fucking do, and now I’m not even allowed to apply to fucking _ Yale _ anymore! So no, I _ can’t _ fucking keep it down!”

“If you really cared that much about your education in the first place, you wouldn’t have tweeted all those awful things,” Wendy hissed.

“I already told you,” his eyes widened. “I never _ tweeted those things to fucking begin with!” _

“Whatever, Kyle,” she snapped. “Settle down.”

“You think I’m even _ stupid _ enough to tweet things like that?”

Wendy shot him a look of disgust and Token finally spoke up.

“Okay, y’know what? I’m done with this bullshit and it’s only 7:30,” Token shook his head. “Kyle, we’ve been friends since...elementary school, but I trust Yale’s sourcing and I have to go with my guts on this one.”

“Your guts are wrong! Yale is _ wrong!” _ Kyle sighed in absolute exhaustion. “Token, we’ve been friends for _ so _ many years, you _ have _ to know I’m telling the truth.”

“Do I?” he laughed with the shake of his head. “‘Cause, Kyle, you haven’t always been the best friend in the whole world, let’s be real.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Fourth grade. Swooped right in and went after Nichole,” he shrugged. “Ninth grade. Me and Nic are on a break; you take her to the dance.”

Kyle thought his head might explode. “You’re still mad about _ THAT?!” _

Token glared in his direction. “We’re in a library, can you keep it down?”

“That happened _ years _ ago!”

“And you’ve always resented me _ just _ a little bit, haven’t you?” Token narrowed his eyes. “And I let it slide, ‘cause Nichole insisted you were such a nice guy, but now I know, I was right. 'Cause now you're going around, behind my back, insinuating that I'm only getting prioritized by Yale because of "racial bias" and my dad. Where the fuck do you get off saying that?" he murmured. "My gut instincts were right all along.”

“Nichole doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Kyle snapped. “She’s wrong, she only believes it ‘cause everyone else has her convinced. And I didn't say _any_ of that to begin with!”

“Wait, what now?" Wendy asked. "You think Nichole is incapable of making her own judgments? You don’t think women can think for themselves?”

“It has—it has _ nothing _ to do with that!” he fumed. “I’ve always been a feminist!”

“And yet, look at your poor exes,” she shrugged. “Didn’t you dump Rebecca Cotswald, for getting too “slutty”? I mean, I was hesitant enough to invite Heidi into our study group, since you treated her like garbage, and now you’re saying Nichole isn’t capable of free thought? So, what’s the verdict?”

Now Kyle was _ certain _ his head was about to explode. “I love women! I’ve never treated an ex with _ anything _ but respect, and care and—”

An _ ex? _

Wendy cocked a brow. “—and…?”

_ “Token,” _ Kyle spoke groundedly. “You said that there were texts, too.”

“Uh, yeah,” Token shrugged. “Why?”

“Could I see them?”

He and Wendy shared a weird look, followed by rolled eyes. “Sure,” he sighed, passing Kyle his phone. “But you can stop pretending like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Kyle’s blood ran cold.

He knew whose contact picture that was and he also knew who the second, cropped out, person in that secret, Instagram-filtered photo was. He felt his limbs shake and blood boil, as he dropped Token’s phone back onto the desk and whipped back around in the same direction he’d come.

“Hey, watch it!” Wendy shouted. “That’s his phone!”

_ “Kyle?” _ Token called.

But he was out the doors.

The crowd was a lot more filled out by then and Kyle stormed past other students. He should’ve known. _ He should’ve known! _ He was almost _ angry _ at himself for not coming to that immediate conclusion before; had he been so lovestruck at some point that it’d blocked out all those childhood memories; every single _ time _ he’d been fucked over by his once-significant-other?

Kyle had prided himself on being a good boyfriend; he was certain he’d been a good boyfriend. Not only to every single girl he’d dated but the one and only boy who he’d made an exception, after exception, after exception for, _ still _ to be turned on and emotionally destroyed. To have his reputation ruined; friends and allies alike turned on him. _ It had only been a few hours; _ how had this all gone wrong in just a few hours?

Stan and Kenny stood by their lockers. Stan looked up uncomfortably and Kenny gave him a weird look when Kyle headed their way, his body quaking with anger.

_ “Where is he?!” _

“Where’s who?” Stan hesitated.

“You know,” Kyle narrowed his eyes. _ “—exactly _ who I mean.”

Kenny raised a brow. “Butters…?”

_ “NO, NOT BUTTERS!” _ he spat. _ “Where IS HE?!” _

“Kyle, calm down,” Stan spoke nervously. “We don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Ohhh...you mean _ Cartman,” _ Kenny lowered his voice. “The _ ex.” _

“You think this is fucking _ funny?!” _ Kyle barked, grabbing Kenny by the hoodie. “Is this fucking _ entertaining _ to you?”

“Jesus Christ, calm down, dude,” Kenny rolled his eyes, pushing Kyle away from him. “What’s got your panties in such a fucking knot today?”

“You didn’t see?” Stan whispered. “The _ tweets?” _

“Got Twitter-suspended again,” he shrugged. “What’s up?”

“Kyle got…” he mumbled. _ “Cancelled.” _

“Am I the only person in the entire school actually taking this seriously?!” Kyle laughed. “Am I losing my _ mind?!” _

“Uh...maybe?” Kenny raised a brow. “It’ll blow over in, like, a week or two, dude, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, is that fucking _ so?” _ his eyes widened. “Because I got an email from fucking _ Yale _ this morning, saying I no longer qualify as an _ applicant!” _

“Oooh…” Kenny grimaced. “That’s...uh, sorry about that, bro.”

“No, you’re not,” he spat. “But _ Cartman’s _ going to be.”

“Why Cartman?” Stan asked.

Kyle turned his head menacingly and his voice darkened. “Why the fuck do you think, _ Stan? _ Why do you _ think _ Cartman’s going to be sorry?”

“I don’t know?” he shrugged. “Was he the one who saved all your tweets?”

_ “Hey, guys! _ What’s up?”

The hair on Kyle’s neck stood up. He’d recognize that voice anywhere; the familiar whiny incantation and incomprehensible “accent” that came along with it, the flamboyant and obnoxious flair attached to every single spoken word. He felt his fists clench and backpack drop to the floor, as he spun on his heels and came face-to-face with the absolute second-most _ unfortunate _ person to walk the halls of South Park High School that day.

_ “You,” _ he narrowed his eyes. _ “You!” _

“Yeah. Me. What’s good?” Eric Cartman shrugged. “You alright, bro?”

“‘Bro’? Did you just fucking call me _ ‘bro’?!” _ Kyle snapped. “Are you out of your damn _ mind?” _

“Uh, yeah, but I’m medicated, so,” he teased. “Nice hat. Little early to try bringing that thing back into style.”

“Don’t try changing the fucking _ subject _ with me!” he jabbed a pointed finger into Cartman’s chest. “I’m gonna kill you!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’d I do _ this _ time?” he scoffed. “Last time I checked, you were the one to fuck me over, not the other wa—”

_ “—no. _ I don’t wanna hear one more fucking word out of you.”

“Kyle, please,” he muttered, eyes peering side to side. “You’re starting a crowd.”

“Blame yourself,” Kyle hissed. “Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve _ done _ to me?”

“No! I don’t!” he snapped. “‘Cause you won’t _ tell _ me, Jesus Christ!”

“Does _ this _ look fucking familiar to you?!”

Kyle thrust his phone into Cartman’s face, the screenshots and ultimate cause of his social and educational demise right there on display, up close and personal. He watched as the look at Cartman’s face went from irritated to shocked; his eyes widening and big mouth slammed shut for the first time in a long time.

That alone said it all.

“So?” Kyle spat. “These look a little bit _ familiar _ to you?”

“Kyle, I—” he blinked. “Kyle...how’d you get those?”

“They’ll _ all _ over Twitter, no thanks to you!” he simmered. “Ask anyone here, I’m sure they have a copy.”

“I have a copy!”

“Not now, Clyde.”

“Kyle, I…” Cartman covered his mouth. “I didn’t...I didn’t know…”

“You didn’t know…?”

He _ snickered. _ He was _ laughing. _ Kyle’s entire reputation on the line and Cartman was _ laughing. _

“You think this is fucking _ funny?!” _

“Oh my God, dude. Holy shit,” he sneered, wiping a few tears from his eyes. “How the fuck did you find those?”

“I _ didn’t,” _ his blood boiled. “They were sent _ to me. _ By _ several people. _ And _ posted. _ Fucking _ everywhere.” _

“Wait, what?” Cartman shook his head. “What’re you talking about?”

_ “Yale _ got a hold of them?”

“...Yale?”

“Yes, _ Cartman. Yale _ has a copy of these,” he laughed lowly. “This and the _ text _ messages.”

“There were texts too?” he mumbled. “Oh, yeah..._right…” _

“And guess what else?” he continued. “Because of these _ hilarious _ little _ screenshots, _ I got a _ pleasant little email _ from Yale this morning.”

“...uh oh.”

“Yeah. _ “Uh oh”! _ ” Kyle’s fists balled at his sides. “Apparently, _ because _ of these _ screenshots, _ I’ve been _ removed _ from Yale’s applicant pool. And I _ cannot _ reapply!”

Cartman’s expression had done a quick 180 degrees from amused to absolutely horrified. “Kyle, you don’t understand, I—”

"That's why you were being so fucking _nice_ to me yesterday," Kyle laughed aggressively. "And I kept on telling myself you'd do something petty, I kept _telling_ myself, but then you were acting so fucking _nice_ that I assumed you really were getting better. Why should I be fucking surprised?!"

"No! _NO,"_ he stammered. "Kyle, I wasn't just faking the other day, okay, you never—"

“Do you have any _ fucking _ idea what you’ve done?!” he raged. “Do you have _ any _ fucking clue the _ damage _ you’ve caused?!”

“No, I just—”

“No! _ Exactly!” _ his eyes bulged. “And you never do, ‘cause you never think about _ anyone _ but yourself! Everything’s about you, the only person in the _ entire _ fucking world you care about is yourself and you probably think this is all warranted, just because I hurt your non-existent fucking _ feelings _ a month ago! Cartman, grow the fuck _ UP!” _

“Kyle, I—” he continued. “I really...I really didn’t...I didn’t consider—”

“—no, cause you _ never _ consider. You’re a narcissist. You _ never _ consider anyone but yourself, do you? You’re _ incapable _ of it.”

“Can I just—”

_ “—NO! _ It’s _ my _ turn to speak,” he seethed. “You are the most _ selfish, obnoxious, over-the-top _ and downright _ inconsiderate _ person I have _ ever _ met. I want _ nothing _ to fucking _ do _ with you.”

“Kyle!” he shouted. “Just let me—”

“—and the worst part is, I didn’t even _ consider _ you!” Kyle raged. “Because I was _ so convinced _ you could do better. But you _ can’t!” _

“Kyle,” Stan cut in. The crowd had grown larger and people from the sidelines whispered and exchanged looks of concern. It was only a matter of time until a teacher showed up and wheeled one or both of them into the office. “Maybe we should just—”

“—you’ve really done it this time,” Kyle pushed Stan aside, reaching closer to Cartman, who had slowly started inching away from him. “You’ve ruined _ everything. _ You’ve taken _ everything _ from me!”

“I didn’t mean—”

“—You _ never _ mean it!”

“I really don’t!”

“You’re only _ capable _ of behavior like this,” Kyle spat harshly. “Why should I be shocked?”

Cartman narrowed his eyes, voice lowering into a mumble. 

_ “Well,” _ he looked away. _ “...hurts, _ doesn’t it?”

Kyle felt his hands ball into tightened fists and his blood boil with rage. He’d had absolutely _ enough _ for one day and the day hadn’t even begun yet.

No single rational thought in his mind, he swung a fist with all his might and watched as Cartman stumbled back and crashed onto the floor. He then paced away with a tremble and turned off into the opposite direction down the hallway. Kenny helped Cartman to his feet and Kyle could feel people passing by staring at him and the chants of _ “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” _ in the distance, while others asked _ Eric Cartman _ if he was alright.

Was _ Cartman _ alright?

What about _ Kyle?! _

He pushed through the door to the boys’ bathroom and was relieved when it was empty.

“Kyle! _ Wait!” _

Cartman made his way through the washroom, still wincing and clutching his cheek in pain.

“Kyle, wait, can’t we please just _ talk?” _

_ “No,” _ his voice shook. “I don’t ever wanna talk to you again.”

“You don’t understand,” he insisted. “I never meant for things to get out of control, I just—”

“—save it for someone who _ cares!” _ Kyle shook his head. His eyes faulted to the third stall, where Cartman had often tugged on his sleeve and dragged him inside so they could kiss in between fifth and sixth period. “Just fucking leave me alone.”

“Kyle, _ please,” _ he pleaded. “I just need to—”

“I need you to leave me the fuck alone. _ Forever!” _ Kyle snapped, resting his face in his hands. He rarely ever cried, but he could feel it coming. His friends, his reputation, Yale, and the person who thought he’d known. All _ gone. _ “Don’t _ ever _ fucking talk to me again!”

“Are you _ crying?” _

“You ruined _ everything!” _ he shouted. _ “Everything _ I had, you took it _ all _ from me. And the worst part, is they all fucking _ believe it!” _

“But, I—”

“But nothing,” Kyle wiped his eyes. “Delete my number. Don’t text me. Don’t call me. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t even fucking _ think _ of me. I never want to see you _ ever again.” _

“Kyle—”

_ “You’re dead to me.” _

He didn’t look twice. He just hurried through the doors of the bathroom, leaving Cartman standing there, clutching his bruising cheek. Kyle didn’t stop until he’d reach the backdoors of the school; he didn’t care that class was starting any moment by then, didn’t care about the looks and huddled whispers of concern and amusement from the people in the hallways. He had to get out of there, so he did.

And once he was outside, he slid back against the wall and buried his face in his knees. What was the point anymore; what was the point? All the care and attention he’d put into his crusade for morality; the time and care he’d put into his public image and reputation...all to be destroyed, from a unrelenting and vicious source, the same person he’d once kissed and held and promised he’d love _ always, _ and not one _ single _ friend or person he cared about seemed to believe him or take notice of the pain he was in or truly understand the type of caring and considerate person he was at his core. _ No one. _ Not _ one _ of them. Even _ Stan _ had been shooting him looks of doubt. And everything he’d thought he’d come to know about Eric Cartman; all the changes and dedication he’d put towards their relationship, it had apparently meant _ nothing. _

Had it ever been real?

So he let himself cry for once. He never cried, not publicly but in private, just this once, he could let his guard down and ignore the masculinity that discouraged him from expressing emotions like such and let it all go.

It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes before he heard the backdoor creak open and noticed a shadow standing before him.

_ “Hey,” _ the shadow spoke. “Thought you might be needing this back.”

Kyle wiped his eyes and peered up at the girl before him. The early morning sun backlit her body like a heavenly entity and he was half-relieved, half-embarrassed to see Jen Byun standing before him, wielding a cigarette in one hand and Kyle’s backpack over her shoulder.

“Oh. Hey,” he sniffled awkwardly. “Um, yeah. I guess I forgot it.”

“Yeah. Can’t really blame you for that one,” she took a seat beside him. Jen took one last drag on her smoke, then smashing it into the ground. Kyle made a mental note to clean up after her later. “That was..._quite _ the argument.”

“You saw that?” he mumbled.

“Not directly. But I heard it,” she shrugged. On this particular morning, Jen was sporting a black turtleneck and plaid mini-skirt, with laced-up boots. Faint sunbeams bounced off of her _ ‘Jennifer’ _ necklace, momentarily blinding Kyle’s eyes. “You’re loud.”

“Did you…” he sighed, covering his face. “Did you see…”

“—The screenshots? Yes, I did,” she admitted. “First thing I woke up to.”

“Oh, _ God,” _ he winced. “I thought you didn’t have any friends around here.”

“I don’t. Not really. Not _ yet,” _ she said. “But I’m officially a member of the cheer-squad and they were _ all _ over our group-chat this morning.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean to sound rude,” he explained. “About the friends-thing.”

“It’s fine, you couldn’t hurt my feelings if you tried,” Jen laughed softly. “I have the world’s thickest skin.”

“Yeah. Wish that were me,” he mumbled. “You believe them too?”

_ “What?” _ she raised a brow. “The Twitter thing?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “The screenshots, or whatever.”

“Kyle, I’m not fucking _ stupid,” _ he rolled her eyes. “Everyone with half a brain should know those are fake. Unfortunately, most people’ve only got about a quarter left.”

His eyes widened. “Wait...really, you? You _ believe _ me?”

“Yeah, duh,” she said. “Has no one in this entire school heard of Tweetden? Social Media Dummy? Or my own personal favorite, _ Inspect-Element? _ You can fake anything these days. A girl at my private school back in New York got suspended for faking screenshots from teachers,” she laughed. _ “God, _ what a trip.”

“Thank you,” he sighed a breath of relief. “I just—_ thank you.” _

“What, am I really the only person to believe you?”

“The _ only _ one. I swear to God,” he murmured. “Not one fucking person believes me. Not my friends. Not my exes. Not..._Yale…” _

“That’s why I deleted my social media,” Jen shook her head. “It’s too toxic. It’s just dogpiling, and rumors and harassment, it’s high school drama in the form of an app.”

“Yeah. I wish I’d considered that before everything went down.”

“Y’know, this time I’m actually surprised they believe a word of it,” she muttered. “Especially taking into consideration the _ source.” _

“The _ ‘source’?” _ he stared back down at his feet. “You know the source?”

“Eric Cartman,” she spoke gravely. _ “Doesn’t everyone?” _

“No,” Kyle stared at her hesitantly. Something _ dark _ danced in her eyes; something he hadn’t yet seen had awaken within her. Something new and something he was vaguely beginning to recognize in himself. “No, I...I don’t know. Token was the first to share them.”

“And I overheard the fight; did Eric Cartman start circulating those screenshots or not?”

“He did,” Kyle nodded. “He didn’t say it explicitly, but…”

“...he did,” she snapped. _ “Yeah. _ Of fucking _ course _ he did.”

He shot her a look. Jen was fiddling with her package of cigarettes. Kyle could tell she wanted one but was restraining herself and he wondered if it was because he’d told her about his great disdain for smoking. He almost felt guilty.

“Do you…” he cleared his throat. “Um, do you...know Cartman, or something?”

“I know what he’s capable of,” she clarified. “And I know this isn’t out of his character and I know anyone who thinks otherwise or that he isn’t guilty of something this horrible is a fucking idiot. ‘Cause I _ know _ he is,” she stared off into the sky, solemnly. _ “He is.” _

Kyle shifted his position, turning to face Jen head-on. He recognized the burning hatred in her eyes; the pain and the resentment and he knew right then and there that he’d been right; this girl was hiding a secret. And he wanted to know what she wasn’t telling him.

_ “Jen,” _ he spoke slowly. “What’re you saying?”

She locked eyes with his and swallowed deeply, reaching for a cigarette and sparking up the tip.

“Come with me,” Jen rose to her feet. “I have a story to tell you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets, lies and things meant to be left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi (^: i'm finally this story is finally picking up a bit plot-wise lol. writing drama gives me...goosebumps.
> 
> **PREVIOUSLY:** cartman doctored up fake screenshots of kyle saying some not-so-pc things about token on twitter and thru text messages, yale got ahold of them, now kyle has been REJECTED from his dream school, his friends hate him and his reputation has been effectively tainted...also, jen has a secret. that's what you missed on dragon ball z.
> 
> ✿HMU✿  
discord: lai#1475  
peep my sp [tumblr](https://broflovski.tumblr.com/) (@broflovski if the link doesn't work!)

Her body shook and Kyle watched as her shoulders tensed. He rose to his feet and followed her direction, immediately filled with curiosity and maybe a bit of _ dread. _

Jen clutched her lit cigarette in one hand and her other linked around Kyle’s fingers, leading him in the direction of student parking.

“You’re okay if we miss class?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Are you?”

“Um...yeah, just for today,” he shrugged. “I mean, I don’t wanna go back anyway.”

“Yeah, neither do I.”

“Is something wrong?”

_ “Ha,” _ she shook her head. “The morning you’ve had and you’re asking _ me _ if _ I’m _ okay.”

“I...try not to be self-involved.”

“I know,” she replied. “That’s why I like you.”

He felt an electric shock ping between the two of them, as they made their way across the lined pavement into the parking lot. He hadn’t held hands with someone since the break-up about a month prior and he hadn’t held hands with a pretty girl in over a year. He hadn’t held hands with a girl as pretty as _ this _ girl, maybe ever in his life. Kyle hoped his palms weren’t really as clammy as they felt.

“You have a car?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I never drove anywhere when we lived in New York, but my cousins taught me when we visited Cali.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Nowhere,” she sighed, unlocking the car. “I just needed somewhere to talk. Somewhere a little more _ private.” _

“We can talk,” he muttered. “I can’t go back to school right now. I’m in so much fucking _ trouble, _ God, this day couldn’t get any fucking worse. I don’t wanna go back, we can talk all you want. ‘Cause I can’t go back.”

“I know.”

“Sorry, I…” Kyle shook his head regretfully. “I didn’t mean to make things all about myself again.”

“No, don’t apologize,” she insisted. “That’s actually...that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you, I have a lot of things I wanna talk to you about. Especially after today, now I know we have to talk.”

“After today?” he asked. “What’re you talking about?”

“After what went down this morning...the Twitter bullshit, the fight with Cartman, I just. I knew I couldn’t keep lying to you anymore.”

Kyle turned his head, staring at her shaky side profile, as Jen anxiety gripped the steering wheel. The early morning sun had gone into hiding behind clouds of grey and everything was beginning to feel a bit dark and fuzzy.

_ “Jen,” _ he approached the subject with caution. “What’s going on?”

She stared straight ahead, eyes refusing contact.

“So, I know we barely know each other,” Jen started, nervously tucking a strand of long, dark brown hair behind her ear. She opened the window a crack and took a drag, before ashing out her cigarette through the slot. “But when we met, I wasn’t 100%..._honest _ about who I am.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes and peered in her direction. Somehow, she was becoming more and more familiar, but he still couldn’t place her identity.

“Who are you?”

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY, ONE YEAR PRIOR.**

She brushed her hair every single morning, 100 strokes. It was soft and grazed her shoulders in a blunt line, always pin-straight. A thick coat of cherry gloss had been dashed across her plump lips and she straightened the tie locked around her neck. The most standard of standard private school uniforms, but she wore it with pride.

This was where she belonged and where she was finally settling in and now a lot more comfortable with herself and her surroundings. The familiarized hum coming from the blowdryer in their shared bathroom was resigned with a click.

“We’ve got class in five minutes,” there was shouting from the bathroom. “What’s taking so fucking long?!”

She sighed. _ Make that 101 strokes. She _ wasn’t the one taking “so fucking long”. Her friends could definitely be a little bit dramatic. “Be fuckin’ nice, okay? I didn’t get a great sleep last night.”

“Bad dream?”

“Something like that.” Mascara came next, followed by highlighter across the cupid’s bow. “I was tossing and turning all night.”

Her roommate returned from the bathroom, plaid skirt hiked up to reveal slim thighs. They all wore their skirts that way; it was forbidden but rules were meant to be broken. “What was it about?”

“I can’t really remember. I never remember my dreams.”

“That sucks,” she laughed, slipping into a pair of ballet flats. “Did I tell you about that dream I had once? The Leo DiCaprio dream?”

“Several times.”

“Don’t sound so unappreciative,” she arched a brow. “That’s one of my best stories.”

“I can’t believe you’re still in love with 90’s Leo.”

“Believe it, baby,” her roomie winked. “Are you coming out with us tonight? Fake IDs, lotta booze…”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she spoke apprehensively. “My ID looks nothing like me.”

“You think anyone actually cares?” that warranted a scoff. “They just wanna get hot girls into the club. You probably won’t even need it.”

_ “Maybe…” _

She peered into her reflection. Hazel eyes and baby soft skin, like a china doll, blush dashed across each cheek. She was considering growing-out her hair. Maybe shoulder-length wasn’t the most flattering hairstyle, but all her friends thought it was cute. She feared it only accentuated all the wrong features and made her look much too young. Thank God she took after her mother. Her hair grew so quickly it was almost irritating.

In a thigh-grazing skirt and tight little blouse, she stood a decent five feet, four inches tall, but it was never enough, so heels accompanied her day-to-day wardrobe. She’d opt-out of it if she could, but felt insecure about her height. Sure, she was taller than her mother, but her mother wasn’t the one being scrutinized by a few hundred other private school students.

Besides, she’d spent too much on those heels to let them sit in her closet, or, rather, her father did.

She adorned her wrist with the silver charm bracelet she’d received for her last birthday and the two locked up their dorm, making their way across campus to class.

“Jennifer, you going home this weekend?” 

Her roommate had sparked up a cigarette, and the girl reluctantly took one when offered, pinching it between her teeth.

“Yeah,” she nodded softly. “My aunt’s visiting from the Bay.”

“You go home every weekend,” her roommate shrugged. “You hiding some kinda secret life from us?”

“Hell nah,” she laughed. “I just want a little peace and quiet sometimes.”

“‘Peace and quiet’ my ass,” came a sneer. “I’ve seen you swing from a fucking chandelier, babe. Can’t hide nothing from me.”

“Maybe I should slow it down,” she mumbled. “I’ve been going too hard lately.”

“You only transferred here last year and you still feel like a stranger to us. Live a little.”

“I’ll try.”

“C’mon, we like you here,” her roommate nudged. “It’s funny, you’re so quiet ‘til you’re drunk.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Listen, if my mom gives me the green light to skip...I can probably come out to the club this weekend, okay? I just have to spend a little time with my family or they get pissy.”

“That’s the spirit!” she beamed. “I’ll text Madison.”

“Yeah, text Madison.”

It was that simple.

Not that simple to start over, as she’d so desperately hoped because the past tended to follow her wherever she went, but that simple to pretend nothing bad had ever happened to begin with when things were running this seamlessly for once. California was a thing of the past and their home before that, she was still desperately trying to erase from her memory, but New York City was getting her somewhere good. She had a solid group of friends; solid enough that she’d secured herself a roommate by the end of tenth grade and she liked her roommate a lot. She’d been a pretty decent replacement for her childhood best friend.

And she didn’t need to go by that stupid, outdated pet name her parents and the students at all her old schools had called her. Not anymore.

_ Jennifer, _ she’d been introducing herself as. _ Don’t call me “Jen”. And never call me “Jenny”. _

_ ‘Jennifer’ _ had an air of sophistication. Someday the transformation really would be complete; she’d be a completely different entity than the child she’d once been and this was the start of it all. Parties in New York City, underage drinking with her cool new friends, slipping her arms around the neck of the hottest guy at the club...like a snake, she’d shed her skin and become something new. And one day, she really would erase the past.

It was the commotion in the school dining room that happened later that day, that set it all off into motion. She’d been sitting with her friends, eating lunch and weighing in on their conversation every now and then when a girl from another class approached their table with a vindictive spark in her eyes and those eyes were honing in on _ “Jennifer”. _

_ “Hey,” _ she tried. “Are you the soft-serve girl?”

_“Soft-serve girl?”_ _Jennifer_ wiped her hands on a napkin. Leftover Chinese takeout for lunch again. “What’s a “soft-serve girl”?”

“Y’know, ‘soft-serve girl’,” she sneered. “The one who shit her fucking _ pants? _ From Colorado?”

Her eyes widened. It was like a punch to the gut, right out of nowhere. Her friends exchanged confused looks and her knees shook nervously under the table. 

“I’m sorry,” her vision blurred. _ “What?” _

“Did you have an _ accident _ and try _ killing _ yourself over it?” she spoke bluntly. “I mean, I would’ve too, but _ damn. _ That’s so fucked up.”

“What’re you talking about?” one of her friends snorted. “What the fuck’s that even mean?”

The girl pushed her iPhone into her recipient’s face. _ “Jennifer! Simons! _ Is that fucking _ you?” _

The article. It was the article; not the _ fucking _ article, how did it still exist? Even in screenshots, how did something like that still exist and how was it still circulating; it had been _ six years, _ how did they find out?

“Oh my fucking god,” her friend scoffed. “That _ is _ you.”

“That’s _ disgusting.” _

She felt her blood run cold. Eyes on her. It was happening again, it was all happening over and over again.

Judgement scorned her; judgement came from all sides and every angle and immediately she had a bad case of déjà vu.

She was trembling. Her whole body was trembling.

_ Oh no. _

_ Oh, no, no, no. _

Yes, there it was, it was right there in plain text, even if she couldn’t see properly through the tears that had filled her eyes to the very brim. the same, stupid, blasphemous gossip news column story, screenshotted and posted to Twitter, for all of their friends to see.

Pants-crapping, suicide-girl, Jenny Simons.

_ “Jenny?” _

“Wait, who’s Jenny? You went by _ ‘Jenny’?” _

Her hands and cheeks felt hot. Her vision blurred; was the room spinning? She felt the eyes of every single classmate on her; raised brows and vicious chatter. The room was most _ definitely _ spinning. Everything was happening too fast.

How could someone do such a thing?

_ “How’d you even find this?” _

_ “My cousin in Colorado sent it to me. Saw her name when we were looking at the Yearbook and recognized Jennifer, isn’t that fucking funny?” _

“Funny”? What was _ funny _ about any of it? What was funny about eating a drugged cupcake? What was funny about the publication _ humiliation _ that he’d caused her; the laughs that filled the hallways and the two-second-long fall to the ground that had felt like 10 minutes of contemplation and regret?

What had been _ funny _ about that?

Her roommate was no longer at her side. She’d bailed. Who wouldn’t bail? It was social survival 101.

_ “Did you really shit your fucking pants at school?” _

_ “In PUBLIC?!” _

_ “I’d have done a straight nosedive off a building too.” _

If only she had taken the plunge. Right there, right then, in that moment, she’d rather have been six feet under the ground.

She could feel it. Vomit curdling in her stomach. Anxiety welling up and bubbling to the top. She was about to throw up, in front of all these people; it was happening again. She was going to lose the tiny breakfast she’d picked apart that morning and little bit of Chinese food she’d eaten, probably any second now.

_ Fourth grade, _ her head pounded. _ This is the fourth grade. I’m in fourth grade again. _

Jeers and taunts and the pathetic looks; how were children even capable of such things? She understood high-schoolers at this point, but _ children? _

And at the center of it all had been _ him. _ The Devil Incarnate; Satan himself, no, Satan _ wished _ he had the power to conquer and destroy lives the way _ this _ person did.

And he had stood there in all his fat, spoiled kid glory. He’d _ poisoned _ her, only that last time, it hadn’t come out of her mouth.

This time was different.

He wasn’t there, but she felt the evil of his presence. Jenny Simons fell to her knees and puked out her guts.

The crowd of kids laughed in unison. She hit the cafeteria floor with a thud and they were still laughing.

It never stopped.

* * *

**HERE AND NOW.**

Her face stung with tears. She was sobbing into her hands. The cigarette had slipped from its resting place between her fingers; ashed out long ago, as the mood in the car immediately turned somber and Kyle tentatively clutched her shoulder. She’d barely made it to the end of the entire story without trembling; tears trickling down her cheeks. She’d been so brave for so long and now it was all over, the two seated side by side in the second parking lot as the sky clouded over and turned grey.

_ “Jen,” _ he reflected. “Jenny _ Simons.” _

_ That’s _ why she’d seemed so familiar. He hadn’t remembered seeing Jenny Simons going into fifth grade, but they had never really spoken much so he didn’t say anything. But in retrospect, he was now recalling _ why _ she looked so vaguely familiar and it was because they actually had known each other. And on top of that, Jenny had been his ex-girlfriend, Lola’s, childhood best friend. He’d seen a picture or two from her years and years ago, but she still looked different by then. It was all coming back to him at once.

And the saddest part was that Jen became more familiar and more recognizable _ with _ tears spilling down her cheeks. She looked more familiar when she was vulnerable and the memories of fourth grade came flooding back into his head.

_ “Soft-serve Simons”. _

The girl who jumped off the school in an attempt to kill herself after Cartman had humiliated her. Kyle didn’t know the story in full, not until now. Cartman had given her a cupcake, spiked with laxatives. She’d taken it out of nothing more than politeness. And then the laxatives took effect and she was humiliated, teased, bullied, ripped on, _ mocked _ and buckled under the pressure.

An attempt-suicide in the _ fourth grade. _

And now here sat the 12th grader, Jen Byun, _ Jenny Simons, _ one-and-the-same and she was still broken. Kyle swallowed the hesitant lump in his throat, watching as she pathetically wiped away a few tears, body shaking ever-so-softly.

Eric Cartman’s humiliation followed everywhere she went. South Park Elementary followed her everywhere. From Colorado to her private school in New York, Jenny Simons didn’t have any privacy.

And Kyle saw her pain.

He felt it.

“Go ahead,” she laughed dejectedly, hands gripping the wheel of her unmoved car. “If you wanna call me “Jenny” go ahead, I just. I wanted a change, but what does it matter? What the fuck does it matter; I’m always gonna be Jenny _ fuckin’ _ Simons, the girl who made an ‘oopsies’ in class and then tried killing herself. It doesn’t fucking matter how much I change, I’m always that girl.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want to be called,” he assured. “I wouldn’t do anything if it hurt you.”

“Yeah, you’d think that,” she wiped her eyes, mascara rubbing off onto the back of her hand. “But it happens all the fucking time.”

_ It’s fine, you couldn’t hurt my feelings if you tried, _ she’d laughed that day in class.

“Jen?”

_ I have the world’s thickest skin. _

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“Maybe with other people, but it won’t happen with me.”

She shook her head softly. “I fucking lied. I lied to you, but you get why I had to lie, don’t you? I have to lie to everyone, it was...you don’t understand…I know we just met, and I lied already, but I had to, I didn’t know what to do, I’m fucking _ trapped...” _

“I don’t blame you,” he spoke calmly. “I could never blame you for that.”

“Kyle, he...he ruined my life. He ruined _ everything,” _ she choked. “I couldn’t escape it. I tried so desperately. I still had friends, my parents sent me to therapy, but nothing fucking worked. By the end of fourth grade, they knew they had no choice,” she dabbed away another few tears with the wrist of her sweater. “I was miserable. The incident haunted me. I’d see his face around school and feel sick to my stomach. I couldn’t fucking take it.”

“I get that,” he whispered dryly.

“So, we packed up. We had to get the hell out of here,” she sniffled. “We’d relocated to Colorado when I was in preschool, ‘cause my dad got a good job here, but he quit.”

Kyle hesitantly reached for her hand. “Where’d you go?”

“My mom’s from San Francisco, so we moved in with her sister,” she swallowed. “We lived there for a few years and California was so fucking _ lonely, _ ‘cause I was always paranoid and therapy never helped. But my dad got into another really great company and he was transferred to New York. So we moved again.”

He felt a soft squeeze as she accepted his hand.

Kyle’s arms tingled with goosebumps.

“We lived in the city for a few more years, and things started improving, but then when my dad was promoted again they sent me to private school. And those people knew _ everything,” _ she banged her empty fist against the dash. _ “Everything. _ They dug up fucking _ everything; _ they knew about the stupid _ fucking _ cupcake incident, they…I thought they were my friends, but one convenient cousin in Colorado and one stupid fucking _ google search _ of my name and they found all the suicide bullshit, it _ ruined _ me _ all over again, _ it wouldn’t _ end...” _

“It’s okay,” Kyle gripped her hand. “If this is too hard for you, it’s okay, _ really…” _

“And then my dad says, it’s time for a change. The city is what’s causing all my stress and paranoia and I’m in therapy three times a week when he decides we need to move back to Colorado for my senior year,” she trembled. “And I was changing, y’know? New York actually did change me in the best way, I just...even after the stupid fucking Twitter cupcake private school incident, I got a tutor, I was homeschooled, all I read was Vogue, cover to cover. My mom felt so fucking _ bad _ for me, that she’d take me shopping in Manhattan every weekend, she bought me a whole new wardrobe before we moved. I worked out for an hour every day and lost 15lbs. And I thought I’d be okay, ‘cause I’ve changed and I’m going by my mom’s last name and no one even _ calls _ me ‘Jenny’ anymore, but then I saw him, and…”

“It’s okay…” he moved in closer. “Jen, it’s _ okay.” _

And Kyle, who was usually too awkward to get overly touchy with anyone, found his arm around her shoulders and her face buried in his jacket. And she leaned into him, tugging at the fabric and softly sobbing; her body a trembling mess. And while he rubbed Jenny’s back hesitantly and let her have a moment to collect her words, Kyle felt his own heart pounding and feelings all welling up.

It was an emotional day for both, but he was only growing closer and closer to her.

“Everything fell apart,” Jenny clutched at his arm. “I mean, I was fine. I didn’t break down in public this time like a fucking moron, but God, the moment I saw him...I just. I cried all night long.”

“It hurts that much to see him?”

“Still does,” she nodded. “Even seven years later. Nothing’s changed.”

“But you’ve changed,” Kyle insisted. “Things can get better.”

“I know,” she sniffed, resting her head against his chest. “I know, ‘cause...I mean, I have to be honest again. ‘Cause at that party, when I said I knew who you were, it wasn’t because of other people. I recognized you.”

“You did?”

“I did,” she replied. “‘Cause I’d seen you on Lola’s Instagram years ago.”

_ “...yeah?” _

“Yeah,” she nodded. “But more importantly, back in the day of that stupid fucking drama blog..._you _ were the only one who understood how wrong it was. And you spoke up. You said something. You fucking _ stood up _ for something.”

“Well, it was really, really wrong,” he murmured. “Nothing but harmful, tedious and vicious gossip. Lies and rumors, all of it.”

“It was. And it’s only getting worse, but I guess I don’t have to tell you that and state the obvious,” she leaned into him. “But you...you aren’t like the others, Kyle, you’re _ different.” _

There were those goosebumps again. “I _ am?” _

“Yeah,” she said. “You have morals. You _ care. _ You don’t just, just, stand by, or participate, or join in. You go against the grain when it matters. You stand up for people, Kyle, _ you _ give a shit. And I can just tell, you still do.”

“I mean, you did call me ‘defensive’ that one time,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, and I like it,” she squeezed their hands together. “I always remembered you. ‘Cause you were the boy who cared. You’ve always been the boy who cares, haven’t you?” she peered up into his eyes. “And I still see that in you today.”

Kyle felt his cheeks burn up and he tentatively stroked her arm. “I know how it feels.”

“How what feels?”

“To be hurt,” he bailed on eye contact. “To be hurt by Eric Cartman.”

“I know you do,” she hesitated. “I...y’know, I was there for fourth grade. I know a lot more than you think I do. I know what he’s like.”

“So you know the damage he’s done.”

“I do,” she nodded. “Kyle, _ I do.” _

“Do you know how much _ time _ and _ effort _ I put into my Yale application? The work I dedicated to it, the time, the pressure, the nights I lost sleep because I was stressing and worrying and up all night doing extra-credit assignments and working on homework to keep up my grades? Every single club I joined, every team I joined, everything I did,” he shook. “Just to have Cartman fuck it all up, in _ one _ fucking morning? Ruin everything for me, ruin my life, my reputation, I can’t go to _ school. _ Not anymore. It’s all over, I’ve wanted to go to Yale forever and it’s all over. All because of _ him.” _

_ “All because of him,” _ her voice turned dark. “I know all about it. I know about everything he’s done, the fucking harm he’s caused, _ all of it, _ Kyle, _ I know. _ He’s hurt too many people and it’s a never-ending cycle of hurt; it won’t end.”

“And the worst part is, it’s not even just today. It’s all of it. Everything he’s done, _ all _ of it” Kyle laughed sharply. “Not just to you, not just to me, but to others…”

“To _ everyone,” _ she whispered. “He’s a fucking monster. And he needs to be stopped.”

“I know,” Kyle contemplated. There in the private and emotional solitude of her car, he gave Jenny a soft squeeze and pinched his eyes shut to hold back his own tears. “I know. He ruined my life. He ruined my fucking life. I’m not getting into Yale, I’m not going everywhere, everyone fucking _ hates _ me—”

“—I don’t hate you,” she reassured him. “I promise, I don’t hate you, not in the least.”

“You’re the only one who doesn’t,” he nodded, staring out into the distance, where the mountains stood high and the clouds only turned darker. “I just...I just wish we could just settle the score, once and for fucking all. I wish we could get him back for all of the fucking _ pain _ he’s caused us. I wish we could get even.”

Jen shifted upwards from her position locked to Kyle’s arm and peered into his eyes.

_ “We can.” _


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle reels from social homicide, Cartman looks for the positivity in everything and Jenny drops a bomb on her new partner-in-crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PREVIOUSLY:** Jen reveals her true identity and Kyle recognizes her as Jenny Simon: the girl Cartman humiliated into a suicide attempt back in fourth grade. Both furious and reeling from the hurt he's caused them, Jenny's dreamt up a revenge scheme — and she wants Kyle to join her.
> 
> hey guys!! it's been a minute! i love this fic to death but i've been so busy i've barely had time to update! things are gonna pick up real, real quick. i love me a little love-game. hope you've had a baller november & stay sexy. lemme know if my image(s) don't work!
> 
> ✿HMU✿  
discord: lai#1475  
peep my sp [tumblr](https://broflovski.tumblr.com/) (@broflovski if the link doesn't work!)

Kyle slammed his backpack onto the floor of his bedroom and let out a much-needed sigh, then collapsing into bed.

He hadn’t ended up going to class for the rest of the day. He’d gone to the nurse’s office and claimed he had the stomach flu and then went home for the day before any teachers could track him down and punish him for punching his ex-boyfriend in the face.

Not that anyone _ knew _ Eric Cartman was his ex-boyfriend.

Thank God for that.

Kyle turned his phone face down and rubbed his forehead in agony, pushing the curls from out of his face.

_ We can. _

After he and Jenny Simons’s — Jenny _ Byun’s _ — conversation that morning, he’d been reeling. He’d been reeling from the moment she’d spoken the simplest two words he’d heard from her since they’d be re-introduced and the only words replying through his head all day long. He’d been reeling from the moment those words exited her plump, cherry lips, and the bell signifying the end of homeroom chimed and her head lifted from his chest. It never ended.

_ “Are you going to class?” _ he’d asked. He hadn’t known what to say.

_ “Nah. I’m over it,” _ she shrugged. _ “I’m gonna take a sick day.” _

_ “I should go to class.” _

_ “That’d be the smart thing to do,” _ she nodded, jamming her key into the ignition. _ “Have fun.” _

_ “Ha. Yeah, right,” _ Kyle had laughed facetiously. _ “But, Jen?” _

_ “Yeah?” _

He’d paused hesitantly. She looked up with him with those striking, expectant, hazel eyes. Actually, they might have been more _ green _ than hazel. Nevertheless, they were stunning, as was she.

_ “I’m in.” _

Another two words. It was that simple, but what was he getting himself into?

She had only smiled.

Kyle sat and stewed in bed, waiting for the call to his parents. It should’ve been coming any minute by then.

_ “Mrs. Broflovski, we regret to inform you that your son absolutely lost his mind this morning and punched Eric Cartman right in the fucking face. Also, did you know they used to suck face? No wonder Kyle got #TwitterCancelled.” _

Horrific.

But nothing came that afternoon.

_ “KYLE BROFLOVSKI!” _

He’d spoken too soon.

Kyle winced and crawled out of bed, tentatively making his way to the door and creeping downstairs. His mother stood at the door, hands on her hips, face red enough to match her hair, fists balled at her side.

“Ma, I—”

“—you went home _ sick _ without telling me?!”

He sighed a breath of relief. At least word of the Cartman incident hadn’t leaked yet. Or maybe he’d been lucky enough that no one had reported to a teacher. He was a little shocked that Cartman himself hadn’t snitched yet, but maybe he was a little afraid of Kyle at the moment.

“Oh. Right,” he muttered. “Well, I wasn’t feeling well so they just sent me home.”

“It’s all that studying,” she insisted, feeling for his forehead. “You aren’t sleeping and eating enough.”

“Sorry.”

“You should’ve texted me,” she insisted, raising up the grocery bag she’d been wielding in the most flippant of gestures. “I was out of the house when they called.”

_ “Sorry,” _ he said and he meant it. “I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“How’re you feeling now?” she frowned. “Upset tummy?”

_ “Ma.” _

“Go to bed,” she instructed. “I don’t want you getting Ike sick. _ No studying tonight.” _

“Fine,” he murmured, tracking back upstairs. _ Not like I was planning to study anyway. _ Tonight, he was mourning his reputation.

* * *

The real impact of the previous day’s events really only hit Kyle when he woke up the next morning.

He woke up on time to exercise. Got dressed, brushed his teeth, fixed his hair and had set his alarm early enough so that he could make it there an extra hour early to study. And yet everything was still spinning; still felt empty. The rage in his chest never left. He typed and retyped his letter, desperately attempting to appeal to Yale’s more sympathetic side and beg for some sort of second chance.

_I find if you give me a second chance_ **|**

_ If you’d only let me explain myself, those screenshots are not real. If we could speak in person you would get the chance to get to know _ **|**

_ My stupid fucking ex-boyfriend who I never should’ve dated in the first place fucked me over because I dumped him and no one believes me because I live in a stupid fucking redneck town full of fucking morons _ **|**

The _ delete _ key was getting awfully worn out.

Kyle’s biggest problem was that nobody believed him. _ No one. _ Well, _ almost _ no one, but as much as he liked Jen, she was still very much the mysterious “new” girl and lacked the social credentials she needed to vouch for him and grant him any sympathy or support. Back in their elementary school days, Cartman could easily be discredited and Kyle could appeal to the more empathetic side of his classmates, but Cartman wasn’t the same person he was back then. Sure, he looked only slightly different, dressed a little better and still couldn’t resist a controversial joke here-and-there, but he wasn’t the offensive jackass he’d been as a child. In fact, a lot of people found him oddly charming...Kyle had too, not all that long ago...he was kicking himself for getting so damn close with him…

He slammed his laptop shut and headed to school.

Kyle’s favorite varsity hoodie came in handy that day. He was in a mixed-up state of confusion, _ anger _ and embarrassment. Fear. Reeling from social homicide. Trying his very best to balance between staying under the radar and fixing his relationships with those who were no longer speaking to him.

“Hey, guys.”

Stan was at his locker with Kenny. Kyle had approached tentatively, rubbing at his arm as the two looked over.

“Hey, Kyle,” Kenny said. “How’s it going?”

“Uh...not great.”

“You still in a shit mood?”

He glared. “I think it’s justified.”

Stan refused eye contact. He was fiddling with something in his locker. Kyle wanted to assume he was just looking for a textbook or distracted, but it wasn’t like Stan to just completely ignore him.

“Stan?” he tried. _ “Hi.” _

“Oh. Kyle…” he muttered, eyes flitting to the side. He stuffed a notebook into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Hey, dude.”

“So. Elephant in the room,” Kyle laughed awkwardly. “I made a bit of a scene yesterday.”

Stan and Kenny shot each other matching looks of confusion and discomfort.

“It’s okay, man,” Kenny shrugged. “You had a bad day.”

“No, I mean. Yeah, but it’s more than just that,” Kyle hesitated.

“I’ve gotta go,” Kenny laughed awkwardly, shutting his own locker. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Um, okay,” Kyle sighed. “I’ll see you.”

Kenny nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning the corner.

Stan still refused eye contact.

Kyle tried again.

_ “Stan?” _

“What is it?” he mumbled. “I have to get to class too.”

“I know yesterday was a lot of drama, but I’m kinda going through something right now,” Kyle sighed. “Can we hang out after school or something? You, me and Kenny? Butters if you wanna?”

“I’ve got work,” he mumbled.

“Lunch?”

“Animal Rights Club meeting.”

“C’mon, dude,” Kyle glared. “Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life and now you’re being all weird, don’t do this to me.”

“Kyle…”

“You aren’t even _ involved _ in any of this,” Kyle shrugged. “This fight is between me and fucking Cartman. I’m just asking for a little support and you’re acting all freaky.”

“Listen. It’s nothing personal, it’s just…” Stan sighed. “Wendy doesn’t...think it’s a good idea for me to talk to you.”

Kyle’s eyes widened. _ “What? _ Wait, _ why?” _

“It’s nothing personal, okay?” he muttered. “It’s just...I mean, and…”

“You and Wendy haven’t dated for years,” Kyle scoffed. “And, what, she’s still calling all the shots?”

“She’s my _ friend, _ Kyle,” Stan glared. “And it’s not even that. I’m trying to...I’m just. Y’know I’ve been getting closer with Nichole, and the comments you...I mean, I’m…”

“Hold on, are you _ kidding _ me?” Kyle snapped. “You think I actually _ said _ any of that?”

“It was on _ your _ Twitter account.”

“Those were all _ fake!” _

Stan hid his face behind his locker, then opting to slam it shut and keep refusing Kyle any eye contact. He looked beyond uncomfortable.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

_ “Stan.” _

“Bye.”

Kyle’s was nearly frozen to his spot. Really and truly, he’d expected at least _ Stan _ would believe him or have some support to offer. Anything, really. But the entire school was weighed against him and his violent confrontation with Cartman hadn’t helped at all. Not when Cartman was the shorter of the two and he’d probably been hamming it up like the big baby he was and telling everybody about how “abusive” Kyle was. He could just picture it:

_ “He was like that when we dated too,” _ he’d probably say. _ “I’ve always been Kyle’s punching bag.” _

And with that came another terrible thought; what if Cartman really _ had _ exposed their relationship as revenge? He’d have known by then, right? Was Cartman evil enough to do that? He’d already ruined his chances to go to Yale...what was stopping him from committing that final, fatal strike?

But he hadn’t heard anything yet. It was best for his anxiety to not make assumptions.

Kyle wished he’d disobeyed his prescription and popped an extra pill that morning.

* * *

Third period and Kyle was still feeling the heat. People stared in his direction. No one spoke to him. He swore when he passed people in the hallway, they either stared, glared or completely avoided him. He’d even seen one group of sophomore girls turn around and head in the opposite direction. It was _ mortifying, _ but at least he hadn’t been called in to see the principal yet.

There was only one thing that had kept him the slightest bit optimistic.

Ten minutes before the class was to be dismissed for lunch, Kyle felt a small tap on his shoulder.

He turned his head ever-so-slightly and felt his heart crawl into his throat when he noticed Jenny Simon staring back at him.

_ Here, _ she mouthed, passing him a folded up and torn piece of notebook paper. _ For you. _

_ What? _ he replied.

She rolled her eyes and made an ‘opening’ gesture with her hands. Kyle nodded and shifted back into place at his desk.

His stomach flip-flopped. It was cute the way she substituted her “at’s” for an “@” sign. Another cute little quirk of hers. That was something special that came with getting to know someone new: learning about all of their magical little quirks. He turned back around and nodded in Jenny’s direction, receiving a warm smile from her.

Boy, was it shaping up to be an interesting week.

Soon, the bell rang and class was dismissed. Jenny was first out the door. Kyle headed to fourth period and remained distracted the entire time. His mind was far, far away.

When the class was released for lunch, Kyle tried his very best not to make a mad dash for his locker. He was trying his very hardest to keep a low profile that day and he was certain he’d only been doing a half-decent job. Even into the lunch period, people were giving him odd looks and he could tell a few people had been gossiping about him judging by the way they shot _ other _ people odd looks when he walked by. He wanted to focus on school, he wanted to focus on Jenny, he wanted to ignore all of the bullshit. If he didn’t, he’d end up hosting a second meltdown and he couldn’t handle a second social suicide. He pulled open his locker, shoved a few textbooks inside and just before he could make his way to his meeting with Jen, he was greeted by a voice that sent angry chills down his spine.

“Kyle..._hey.” _

Great. Just what his day needed. Kyle could feel his fists clench. He wasn’t going to strike again, but his body still wanted to.

Eric _ fucking _ Cartman.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped.

“I just wanna talk!”

“Fuck off,” he muttered. Kyle could feel his body shivering with rage. It was all coming back up again. As if his interaction with Stan and Kenny hadn’t been enough to send him over the edge, now Cartman was trying to talk to him only a fresh 24 hours later. He was very close to snapping.

“Kyle, _ really!” _ he insisted. “We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday, okay? You wouldn’t let me get a word in. You were just yelling.”

“And why the fuck do you _ think _ I was yelling?” he gripped the door of his locker. “You..._you_…you’ve ruined—”

“—Kyle, I swear, okay? I come in peace,” Cartman raised his hands in surrender. “I just wanna talk things out.”

Against his better judgment, Kyle slowly turned his head in the other boy’s direction to get a glimpse. His left cheek was light purple with bruising. Not as bad as it could have been, but not great either. He was shocked Cartman wasn’t cruising around school with an ice-pack attached to his cheek and a sling around his arm, just for an additional touch of drama.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Kyle laughed shortly. “Actually, no...I have a _ lot _ I’d like to say to you, but if we continue this conversation, someone’s gonna end up hurt. And it won’t be me ever again.”

“Kyle, please,” Cartman sighed. His hands locked together in a plead. Kyle was all too familiar with his pleading pose. “I need to talk to you.”

“Fuck off.”

He grabbed at Kyle’s arm. “Please?”

“Leave me alone, Cartman,” he snapped, pushing his ex-boyfriend away and slamming his locker shut. “Before I do something I regret.”

“Kyle, _ talk to me!” _ he groaned.

He slugged his backpack over his shoulders, turning off in the other direction.

“C’mon, Kyle!” Cartman called, trailing after him. “I could’ve told the principal you hit me, y’know, but I didn’t!”

Kyle stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. He turned on his heel, staring directly at Cartman who winced at the eye contact.

“Are you implying I should be..._thanking _ you?”

“I mean,” he laughed nervously. “That’s not what I’m saying, but I mean, I am kinda doing you a favor…”

“So let me get this straight, _ you’re _ doing _ me _ a favor?” Kyle barked. _ “You?!” _

“Okay...maybe I didn’t explain myself, I—”

“Y’know _ what, _ fatass? Go ahead and tattle on me,” he spat. “Go ahead. You’ve ruined everything else for me, might as well get me expelled for fighting too!”

Cartman winced, biting his lip. “Kyle, no, I didn’t—”

“—Don’t talk to me,” Kyle seethed, storming back down the hall again, away from him. _ “Ever again!” _

“But, I—”

_ “Ever,” _ he echoed. “Not _ ever.” _

* * *

The back of South Park High near the dumpsters was shortly becoming a very familiar setting for Kyle.

He clutched the note Jenny had passed him in class, rereading it for the thousandth time over. It was weirdly endearing that she preferred note-passing to texting. Of course, phones weren’t allowed in class but that didn’t mean people never used them.

Jenny was learned back up against the wall, with a lit cigarette pinched between her fingers. Her eyelids fluttered open when Kyle arrived. She readjusted her stance, gesturing for him to come closer.

“Took you long enough to get here.”

“I had a little altercation on the way over,” Kyle mumbled. He decided to leave out the part about how said altercation had been between him and Cartman. “I got your note.”

“I should hope so!” she teasingly rolled her eyes. “I passed it right to you.”

“I like the note-passing thing,” Kyle stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Everyone’s so addicted to their phones nowadays, it was refreshing.”

“Silly boy,” she dropped her cigarette to the ground, stomping out the ashes with a booted-foot. “I only passed you a note ‘cause we haven’t exchanged phone numbers.”

_ Of course. _ Kyle felt stupid. “I—I know, I just…y’know, I just thought it was so...innovative.”

She smiled in a small way, approaching him slowly. “So?” she asked. “How’s it going?”

“How’s what going?”

“Life,” she teased, tugging at his jacket. Today she was wearing a pair of lace-up boots with fishnet stockings and a baggy graphic tee concealed by what he presumed was a very expensive leather jacket. “Yesterday sucked.”

“It wasn’t great,” he mumbled. His throat closed up a tiny bit every time she got closer. Maybe it was because she was so pretty or because they just weren’t close enough yet, but even after her big embarrassing reveal, Jenny Simon filled him with chills. “No one’s talking to me.”

“No one?”

“No one but you,” he replied. “I mean...I’ve tried, but everything’s still...messy.”

“That’s fucked,” she said. “I think yesterday was a little too rough on both of us.”

“How’re you?” he tried. “I mean...y’know, yesterday...brought up a lot of...maybe, old trauma for you, so I—”

“—no. _ Shush,” _ she pinched her eyes shut. “You’re the social pariah right now. Let’s focus on that, okay?”

“You’re—”

“—I had my own little pity party yesterday, okay?” she muttered. “I wanna know if _ you’re _ okay.”

“I mean. I’m still getting there.”

“I know it’s hard,” she broached, fiddling with the ties of his jacket. “Losing your friends, and school, and reputation, all in one fell swoop like that…”

Kyle felt his stomach turn. He was really still coming to terms with the previous day’s events and consequences; he didn’t want to get too hung up on all of it all over again. “It’s okay,” he muttered. “I’m just trying to focus on the positive.”

“Which is…?”

He wanted to rebuttal, but the way she looked at him discouraged that. With her eyes locked into his and that deep expression of _ empathy, _ he couldn’t pretend like there _ was _ any truth to positivity in the situation. It just, plain, _ sucked. _

“I don’t know,” he sighed.

“Well…” Jen shrugged, softly backing up on her heels. “...have you given our conversation any thoughts?”

“...yesterday’s?”

“Is there another conversation you had in mind?”

“No,” Kyle murmured. “I was just...making sure.”

“What I’m _ really _ asking, is…” Jenny tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Are you really in?”

He reflected on the question

Was he really that desperate to get even with his ex-boyfriend? Was Cartman even _ worth _ his time? All the time and effort that would go into “ruining” his life, whatever that meant or entailed? Was it even a good idea?

But then he looked back at Jenny. Jenny Simon, Jen Byun, the girl who had been pushed to her limits by Eric Cartman, destroyed to the extent where she had to create herself an entirely new personality and identity just to survive. He, himself, had been going through the motions; dreams washed away and destroyed by Cartman’s careless little “joke”. A “joke”, of course, that was what he claimed it was, but Kyle knew better. Cartman _ always _ had to get the last word and in this case, the last action. He wanted to commit the final blow; _ he _ wanted to be the final source of destruction in their already obliterated relationship. And Kyle would’ve been prepared to let him have that moment in the sun and just move the fuck on with his life, maybe if not for the hypnotically hazel eyes peering back at him.

He stuffed his hands further into his pockets. She was right. He was evil. And someone had to do something.

It may as well have been Kyle Broflovski.

“I’m in.”

A smile crept across Jenny’s face. “You’re not just gonna give up on me?”

“No way,” Kyle shook his head. “I’m sick of his bullshit. I’m sick of the lies and the sabotage, and, and, the way he just _ walks _ all _ over _ people…”

“Aren’t we all?” she mused. “Kyle, I’m tired too. I’m exhausted. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Are we really doing this?” he asked with a shrug. “I don’t even know what it entails, I mean...I mean, I feel kinda silly…”

“Don’t get like that on me,” she laughed shortly. “I’ve got a plan in the works.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

“I had a lot of spare time back in the City,” she mumbled. “Homeschooling didn’t take up a whole lot of my time, y’know.”

“So there’s a...plan? You’ve been planning this for _ that _ long?” Kyle asked. “Do I get any say in any of it?”

“Of course you do,” she grinned. “You don’t think I value your input, huh? This plan doesn’t even exist without you.”

“That’s the ‘plan’, huh?” he shrugged softly. “Partners-in-crime?”

“‘Partners-in-crime’,” Jenny winked. Kyle almost winced. The words felt weird slipping out of his own mouth, but even weirder coming from Jenny. “Partners-in-crime” had been what Cartman always referred to him and Kyle when they were dating.

_ “You’re mine,” _ he’d cite. _ “My partner-in-crime.” _

Kyle pinched his eyes shut and tried to ignore how wrong it felt. He nodded, releasing the tiny bit of weirdness and guilt he’d felt only momentarily and grinned again.

“Partners-in-crime.”

“Actually...well, actually, that kinda...well, that kinda brings me to the thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Jenny broached.

“What’s that?”

“Well...y’know, I think we should...get a _ third _ person in on this,” she started.

Kyle narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

“Heidi Turner.”

Kyle’s expression turned dark. _ Heidi? _ Heidi _ Turner? _ The girl whose life he and Cartman had effectively ruined? Sure, it had been seven years, but was it a good idea? Was it the _ moral _ thing to do?

_ “Heidi…” _ Kyle murmured. “Well, I don’t know…”

“C’mon, Kyle,” Jenny sighed. “I know what Cartman did to her. I was there in fourth grade too, remember?”

“Yeah, I—I know,” he stammered. “It’s just...I mean...I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Kyle,” Jenny gripped his hands, peering deeply up into his eyes. “You know better than anyone what Eric Cartman did to that poor girl.”

Kyle tried to ignore the twisty feeling he got the moment their hands locked together. “Yeah, but...but still, Jen, it’s…”

“It’s what?”

“It’s...it’s not fair to her,” he sighed. “Listen, Cartman hurt her, but...I did too. I think we all hurt each other, it wasn’t a great situation.”

“And Cartman was the source of all that hurt, was he not?” she asked. “Girls talk, y’know? I got the gist of it.”

“It’s unfair to her.”

“It was years ago,” Jenny rolled her eyes. “I don’t think she’s upset with you anymore. Cartman, yes, but _ you? _ Heidi’s a reasonable person.”

Kyle shook his head. “I don’t think it’s right,” he mumbled. “We hurt her.”

“So, remedy it,” Jenny insisted. “Do what Cartman never could and fix things, Kyle. You _ know _ it’s the right thing to do.”

He pondered it over; was she right? Would this be a good way to finally make amends with Heidi? Was it seven years too late to apologize? He didn’t want to think too deeply into it. He didn’t want to drag her into it at _ all. _ It just felt wrong. It was a gut feeling, but when Jenny put a spin on it like that, he wasn’t so sure his gut was right this time around.

“I don’t know.”

Jenny batted her eyes. “Just think about it, okay?”

“I...okay, I will,” Kyle shrugged softly. “But I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“That’s okay. I wanna get started soon, but I’ll let you sleep on it,” she released her grip from Kyle’s. “I know you’re a big thinker.”

“‘Soon’?” Kyle asked. “You really wanna do this, hey?”

“I have an entire plan, Kyle,” Jenny smiled coyly, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “And you’re part of it.”

He nodded. “Okay, I’ll...I’ll think about it. About Heidi, I mean.”

“Don’t think about her too hard,” she murmured. “We’ll meet after school at my place. Thursday night.”

“It can’t be Friday?” he asked. “I have basketball tomorrow night and my study group on Thursdays. With Token and Wendy.”

“With Token and Wendy?” she raised a brow. “But, like, do you really?”

Kyle winced. No, of course, he didn’t. As if Token and Wendy wanted him back in their study club and as if he was ready to face either of them. 

How had everything gone to shit in only the span of two days? 

The devil worked fast, but Eric Cartman worked faster.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Kyle muttered. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Think about what I said,” Jenny reiterated.

“About Heidi?”

“Yeah. About Heidi,” she nodded, slowly pacing towards the back door. “Think about it.”

“I will.”

“Good,” she smiled. “But again, Kyle...don’t think _ too _ hard about her.”

She twisted open the handle of the door, slipping inside and Kyle wondered exactly what that was supposed to mean. Maybe he wasn’t meant to know.

“I’ll see you Thursday,” she cooed.

“Yeah,” Kyle called. “See you then.”

No less mysterious than before, Jenny Simon’s mind worked in mysterious ways.

**Author's Note:**

> i'll try doing weekly updates! feedback appreciated.
> 
> edit: this IS a multi-chapter story, i just forgot to hit 'multiple chapters' as usual lol. it's not over yet
> 
> ~ for myself ~


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